Crashing Down
by Arianna Archer
Summary: Scorpia extracts revenge, but not in the way anyone would expect. Long story short, Alex is running for his life in San Francisco with the police on his tail & the public believing he is a terrorist. Everyone in the world knows his secret, but only the bad bits- what Scorpia wants them to know. With no one to turn to & no place to go, Alex is running out of luck. But he has a plan.
1. Exposed

First fan fiction, first chapter! So, since I'm new here, I'm going to need all the feedback I can get, so PLEASE REVEIW! _constructive _criticism is encouraged. And a girl's gotta love the compliments.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. That would be Anthony Horowitz.

* * *

Chapter One

A group of individuals were gathered in a warehouse in the industrial district of China, wearing masks to prevent the polluted fumes from poisoning them. This group, with ranging cultures, backgrounds, and criminal records, were the leaders of the once-most-powerful terror organization on the globe, Scorpia. Yet, in a matter of a few months, they had been thwarted three times and reduced to nearly nothing by a MI6 spy. And the most ridiculous, appalling, and unbelievable fact was that this spy, Alex Rider, destroyed Scorpia at the age of fourteen.

"We've hit rock bottom, no doubt about it." A woman with a pinched face and pointed nose grumbled, her voice muffled by the mask. "it's a miracle that we were able to initiate this meeting without the authorities catching wind of it."

"Let us not complain, let us take action." Hummed an old- yet fit in every aspect- man who seemed to be the only one unfazed by Scorpia's current status. The rest of the group inwardly rolled their eyes at the philosophic statement.

"And how do we plan on doing that?" The woman argued, leaning forward in her chair. Her demeanor seemed to almost challenge the old man to prove her wrong, it dared him to surprise her, which he happily obliged.

"We need to get rid of the spy that ruined us six ways to Sunday. We need to destroy Alex Rider." He waited for the onslaught that he knew would follow his proposal.

"We've already tried to kill him- multiple times- and it never worked. All we're doing is wasting precious income!" A man shouted from the opposite end of the round table. He was hot-tempered and young, with a trace of an iraqi accent on his lips.

"Now, I never said we should kill him." The old man spoke, waiting for the full attention of the remaining Scorpia members. "I said we should destroy him- ruin every chance he has at normalcy, every sliver of happiness and love- and replace it with the fear and paranoia of a constant threat. We need to plant a seed of terror in the boy's heart and watch it grow. If we can't kill him, we'll make his existence a living Hell. Soon enough, he will be on his knees at our doorstep, waiting for us to mercifully deliver a bullet into his heart and stop the madness."

"And how do we plan on doing that?" The woman repeated her first question, but now it had hints of curiosity and interest. The speech had certainly lifted her spirits. The man took a deep breath, soaking up every drop of tension and suspense he had created in the atmosphere of the warehouse. He certainly had a soft spot for theatrics.

"We still have Horseman."

* * *

"Hurry up, you dork, or we're going to be late!" Sabina called as she threw a pair of socks at Alex. He caught them, and tried pulling them on while simultaneously eating his breakfast. "You think you'd have learned your lesson about sleeping in from last time."

"We could always tell them your car broke down. Or the house caught fire. Or a whole bunch of terrorists-"

Sabina cut him off. "How did you ever survive as a spy? You're lies stink!"

Alex couldn't help but smile at the jab. He had been living with the Pleasures in San Fransisco for nearly three months, his life with MI6 so far behind him that he was able to crack jokes about it. It was truly over. He still remembered the day he stepped out of the airport with Mr. Pleasure, and immediately being greeted with Sabina's tan arms squeezing him until he couldn't breathe.

Sabina was his anchor, helping him through Jack's death, the big move, and coping with memories of his past. The cold, hard look in his eyes had nearly vanished, but still lingered, like a ghost of what he used to be. He used to have flashbacks of his missions, filling him with fear and panic until he couldn't move. But none of that mattered to Sabina. She stood by his side through it all. He didn't know what he would have done without her, and he was grateful for her every single day.

"I've already packed your bag for you, let's move!" Sabina ordered, snapping him out of his reverie. They raced out the door and slid into Sabina's volvo, and sped off in the direction of Ashton High School.

* * *

Alex plopped down in his seat next to Sabina in his first period class, maths. _Math, _he had to remind himself.

"Mr. Rider, Mrs. Pleasure? late again?" The teacher tsked. Mrs. Monroe was a gentle woman. Her fair hair always pulled into a bun, where she would absent-mindedly stick a pencil or two in throughout the day.

"Sorry, Ma'am." The teens replied in unison.

"Yes, well, I suppose I'll let it slide this time." She shrugged, turing the projector on to show the lesson on the board. "Now, as I was saying. If a right triangle has the angle measures 30-60-90, the relationship-

She was cut off with a large burst of static coming from the computer. The whole class jumped, and shifted their attention towards the teacher's desk . The static abruptly ceased, as quick as it had started, but the image on the screen was replaced with a symbol that Alex knew all too well. It was a Scorpion.

* * *

Sabina whipped her head towards Alex. She had been told enough to know what that symbol meant. She tried gauging his response, but he was staring ahead- frozen- his hands gripping the edge of his desk. "Greetings, ladies and gentlemen." A cold, hard, voice hummed from the computer. The Scorpia symbol was replaced with the sound waves of the speaker's voice, sharp green lines rising and falling against the black background.

"_This video is currently playing on every computer in the world."_ A smile could be heard behind the voice, as if proud of the accomplishment. I was very impressive, to be able to wire every computer to play what you wished. "_I am here to talk about someone. You may know him, you may not. But either way, you will be interested in what I have to say."_

The image changed to reveal a picture of a boy. He had blonde, shaggy hair, serious, cold, brown eyes, and he was shouldering a sniper rifle. That boy was Alex Rider.

A collective gasp echoed through the room, and everyone turned to look at the boy in the picture. Alex continued to stare at the screen his knuckles white from the intense clutch he maintained.

_"I'm sure you all remember the attempt on the the American Secretary of State's life in Cairo. This boy, Alex John Rider, is the culprit."_ Alex's classmates eyes widened, and he visibly blanched. Yet he continued to stare, motionless.

_"Now, this may shock you further. This boy, only fifteen years of age, works for England's MI6."_ Alex ground his teeth as his classmates got even more taken aback, if that was even possible. _"He was sent to assassinate the American, as she was about to make an anti-British speech. He almost got away with it, but was thwarted by a CIA agent. He promptly killed the agent and fled." _

The image changed to a security video of Alex running from the room above the stage, jumping over the body of the fallen agent. The video froze to show Alex's enraged and sinister expression. In reality, the boy on the video was Julius Grief, but the betrayed students of Alex's math class didn't know that.

"_Rider has worked for MI6 in the past on eight different missions. During these he committed unspeakable acts, such as hijacking and crashing Air Force One, nearly activating America's nuclear missiles and sending them to various countries across the globe." _The screen showed the duo hopping out of the president's plane after it dived into the runway.

Now the outrage in the room was aimed at both Alex and Sabina. Shock and betrayal could be seen in every single teen's face. Even Ms. Monroe seemed disgusted. Sabina wasn't as silent and still as Alex had been. She stood up and turned around, addressing the class.

"This is bullshit!" She shouted, pointing behind her to the video, which now showed clips of Alex firing at human-shaped targets in Malagasto, hitting square on the chest for every shot.

"_For a while, he even worked for a terrorist organization, and nearly killed the deputy head of MI6." _The voice narrated.

"Alex would never do any of this! This guy- he's making it look like something it's not!" Sabina continued to protest, flustered and enraged. Alex was snapped out of his frozen state by Sabina's outcry.

"She's right." He confirmed, rising and standing next to Sabina. "I did work for MI6, but I never did any of that. The people who orchestrated this video are terrorists who've had it out for me for a while. This must be their idea of revenge." He could tell form the locks on everyone's faces that no one was believing the truth.

Alex's muscles were locked, and he was visibly stressed. He could normally keep a cool head during dangerous situations, but he had never dealt with something like this. Everyone- not just his class, the whole world- knew his secret. And it was too late for damage control.

Alex could practically see the repercussions in front of him- Alex and Sabina in jail, everyone thinking the worst of them, America and Britain becoming hostile towards each other, British citizens losing trust in their government for employing a teenager… the list went on the more he thought about it.

"_We are currently in the dark about Alex Rider's whereabouts. If you know where he is hiding, call the police immediately." _

There was only one option to at least avoid a life in jail- and maybe help solve the other problems- but it was unthinkable. Alex dropped it and tried to come up with another.

"_He is a highly dangerous individual- do not underestimate him." _

But as he went through and discarded plan after plan, his mind kept going back to his first, ludicrous idea.

It was bad, but better then anything else he could think of.

"_He has killed before and will do it again- mercilessly." _

Alex had no choice but to run.

To become a fugitive.

* * *

Yeah, that wasn't that long, but hey, we're just getting started. Remember- every time a reader reviews, a writer gets their wings. Just kidding. But it would make me feel very happy inside.


	2. Boom Box

I'm back! Sorry, that took a bit longer than I had hoped, but only by a few days. I tried to integrate all the feedback I had gotten in the last chapter's reviews (which wasn't much, but hey, I suppose that's a good thing), but let me know if there is anything else that still needs tweaking! And even if you don't have any constructive criticism to give, still review! it will make me more inspired to write, so you'll get updates quicker!

Also, an answer to a guest's review: Yes, K-Unit will be involved, maybe some Brooklands kids, but no Yassen. I just don't see any way to fit him in. But who knows, if an idea comes to me and you guys want me to, I might throw him in the mix.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the Alex Rider series.

* * *

Chapter 2

"Sabina. I have to go." Alex interrupted her in the middle of her objections. She looked over at him, and an understanding passed between them.

"No, Alex, you can't-" She started, worry enveloping her expression.

"It's the only way. Besides, I have a plan. Don't worry." In reality, Alex was bluffing. He had no clue what was going to happen next. But he did know that he needed to get out of there before someone in the school let the police know about where he was. He walked purposefully towards the door, masking his uncertainty with a stony face. It was tough, considering the deal of stress he was going through.

He tried to maintain an even expression, but his mind kept throwing possibilities at him. _Everyone you've met here hates you now. You'll never prove your innocence. Hell, you're not even innocent. You're a monster. Scorpia's right. You're a dangerous killer. _Alex shuddered at the thoughts, his mask cracking. He had to get out before he broke down. He had to keep moving to distract himself from his poisonous thoughts.

As Alex looked at the group, he faltered. They all seemed so _betrayed. _He looked more specifically at the people that he had gotten to know well at his time in the school. Their heads hung low. _They couldn't even look at him. _The other students that he didn't know as well looked terrified, backing away as he drew near to the door. But one kid, either really brave or really stupid, stepped in Alex's path.

"Hey! You're not going anywhere, _terrorist." _He snarled. The boy's name was Mark Starny, not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He made a point not to associate with anyone outside of his little clique, unless he was shoving them to the ground to enforce his own superiority. Because of this, Alex had no problem sending a right hook to his jaw, knocking him to the floor before he could utter another syllable. He was the only one he wouldn't mind betraying.

"Yeah, actually, I am. And I'm not a terrorist, idiot." He kept walking, leaving behind a rattled classroom, an angry Sabina, and a nearly unconscious Mark.

* * *

Alex was on the third floor of the building, in the East wing. He picked up his pace, his footfalls quick and quiet on the linoleum. _Keep moving, don't think about about. You don't have time to think. _He turned the corner and went for the stairwell, but he heard a sound that stopped him in his tracks.

Sirens. _A lot _of sirens.

Alex peered out of a window, looking down at the mass of squad cars parked in front of the building, and SWAT vans arriving. He couldn't believe it; they had the school surrounded in a matter of minutes. At first he thought Scorpia had something to do with their quick arrival, but then he recalled the video. "_We are currently in the dark about Alex Rider's whereabouts…" _

Then he remembered: there was a police station just two blocks away from Aston. At first, Alex had loved the thought; if any of his enemies tried targeting him at school he had quick-responding backup. But now, it was keeping him from freedom.

Alex darted to the north of the building. There were less officers there, but they were there all the same. He checked the west and south, finding similar results. He suddenly felt overwhelmed. He was stuck, he would be arrested, he wouldn't have a chance to prove the video wrong, and he would rot in a cell for the rest of his life.

_Come on, snap out of it. _He chided himself, shaking his head in an attempt to rid his mind of the detrimental thoughts. _You've been in worse situations than this! _He took a deep breath and regained his composure.

Alex glanced out of the south window again, and saw SWAT teams entering the building. They would clear each floor, and work their way up. _Looks like going down isn't an option. Too bad, I wanted to stop by the gym and say hello. _He snorted, trying to stay sarcastic. The dry humor kept him focused on the task at hand instead of letting his mind wander to worst-case scenarios.

On closer inspection, Alex noticed the SWAT team men wearing gas masks. They were going to gas him out. Alex suppressed a groan. He knew the gas wouldn't seep into the classrooms in lockdown mode, but he couldn't exactly pop in to a class and say _Hey! Mind if I hide from the police in here for a bit? Thanks, owe you one! _

As he paced in front of the window, an idea formed in his mind. It was risky, but completely brilliant at the same time. He would just have to pray he got lucky.

* * *

The SWAT team approached the third floor. The head of the team, Rick, opened the stairwell door and was about to spray tear gas into the hall, but he stopped upon seeing a box sitting in the middle of the floor. It looked like an average, rectangular cardboard box, but in that hallway, it stuck out like a sore thumb. And that set the team on edge.

"We should probably go check that out." Rick whispered to his team. "It could be a bomb."

"A bomb? Do you really think the kid would do that?" A teammate questioned.

"This guy is a terrorist, you saw the video."

"But still, in a _school?" _

"Let's just check out the box, alright? I'd rather not think about this scum and his actions." They all started forward, uneasy about what they might find. The second they all exited the stairwell, Alex attacked.

He jumped out from behind the door they had opened and sent a flying kick to the shortest mans' temple. Shorty flew back, unconscious. That attack had been easy, considering he had surprise on his side. But that advantage had left the second Alex struck.

Alex turned to the team leader. Even if you didn't know the groups hierarchy, you could tell at a glance that this man was in charge. He was ripped, the SWAT gear stretched out taught, straining against the size of his muscles. He seemed to carry an aura of authority, and Alex could sense the cool and calculated look on his face even through the gas mask. He was a born leader, a born fighter. So Alex wasted no time trying to fight him; he simply kicked him where the sun don't shine.

The leader wheezed, dropping the gun and grabbing his crotch on instinct. Alex snatched the gun and chucked it, sending it skidding across the linoleum, far from reach. Alex addressed the two standing team members and mercilessly sent an array of kicks and punches at them, to keep the mean from grabbing their tear gas guns from their holsters. It was sheer dumb luck that the men didn't already have them out, but Alex paid no mind- there was never a shortage of dumb luck in his favor.

At first, the men were sloppy- caught off guard by Alex's surprise attack- but they soon gathered their bearings and went on the offensive. They were good fighters. Well trained and conditioned. But Alex had received training of his own.

He always felt sick to his stomach when he applied techniques he had learned from his time with Scorpia into fighting, but he had no choice. These men were bigger, more prepared, and they outnumbered him two to one. So Alex remembered his training, and shut off his emotions, letting pure instinct kick in.

One of the men swooped around to the other side of Alex, making sure he couldn't back up against the wall to gain an advantage. He seemed to move with the grace of a Hawk. It was annoying that he would have to watch his back, but he could deal.

The other man went for a sucker punch, which Alex easily grabbed and used against him, swinging the man around so he found himself being used as a shield to protect Alex from Hawk, as he had decided to call him. Alex attempted a blood choke, but due to his height it was near impossible. He quickly gave up and shoved the man aside, knowing that keeping him as shield would just waste time.

The men attacked once more, and Alex relied on his skill and instinct to block the attacks coming from his peripheral. _If he could just get his back to the wall! _The fight continued, the SWAT team a good match for Alex, at least while they had the advantage. The tables turned, however, when Hawk went for an axe kick. When he swung his leg up, hoping to catch Alex on the face, Alex slid under his leg and got behind the man. He stood up behind his back, but more importantly, behind the wall.

The fight was a breeze after that, no more blindly striking and constant head-turning. Alex was the victor- save for a few bruises. The four men were sprawled across the hall, out for the count. He went over to the leader, who was still conscious, but immobile and in pain. The teen kicked him in the face to put him out of his misery, then put part two of his plan into action.

* * *

Sanders was fuming. He sent his best SWAT unit up the south stairwell nearly six minuted ago, and hadn't heard a peep from the radio. He was about to call in some backup for them when one man, limping and breathing heavy, came clattering down the stairs. Sanders couldn't tell which man he was, due to the gas mask and gear. The only physical feature he could observe was his height, which was lacking, to say the least.

"Sir! The boy- he attacked us, everyone else is unconscious on the third floor. They need help." The man wheezed.

"Send a unit up to floor three!" Sanders barked to whoever was listening. "Hey, are you alright?" he addressed the man.

"Yeah… I'm good. Better then the rest of them at least." He coughed.

"Good to hear, you're dismissed." Sanders waived him off, then paused. "Wait, why is you voice so high?"

"The little brat kicked me in the balls." He grumbled before walking off. Sanders chuckled as the backup team stormed the stairs.

* * *

The SWAT team member walked behind a van. All units were either in the school or right outside, on standby. This way, no one noticed when the man disappeared. No one noticed when he pulled off his gas mask. And, most importantly, no one noticed that that man was Alex Rider.

He had to move fast. It wouldn't be long until the backup team discovered four unconscious men, one of them missing gear and a gas mask, and put two and two together. Alex found an empty cop car and slid inside, checking the ignition for keys. No such luck.

Cursing, he ripped the plastic casing out from under the steering wheel, revealing a clump of multi-colored wires. He remembered his uncles words, from what seemed like a million years ago, but still fresh in his mind:

"_Hot wiring a car is fairly simple." Ian said, instructing 12-year-old Alex, who sat obediently in the passenger seat. "Just expose the wires, twist the two battery wires together, then touch the starter wire to the battery wires." He illustrated his words by tapping the wires together and revving the engine. "Your turn." Ian got out of the drivers seat and Alex took his place. _

The car roared to life. Alex grinned to himself. Unlike Scorpia's, Alex had no problem utilizing Ian's lessons. He guided the car away form the school and closer to freedom. As he exited the school parking lot, he drove past a new SWAT team joining the fight. Alex chuckled. They were all trying to take down a guy who wasn't even there anymore.

He slowed to let them pass, and one of the team members glanced in his direction. Alex tensed, but the man showed no sign of recognition. Just as Alex was about to relax and drive off, the man's eyes widened, and snapped his head back to Alex. Shock shone through his face. He shouted something to the rest of the men and they turned, then reacted immediately, piling in a van and revving the engine.

"Ah, _shit._" Alex cursed as he floored it.

* * *

And there you have it! Next chapter should be up in a week, less if I get a good amount of reviews and alerts! So you know what to do!


	3. Rest in Peace

Chapter 3

Alex ran his seventh red light in the past six minutes, catching a glance of the frightened pedestrians and angry, road-raging drivers as he flew by. And, of course, thorugh the rearveiw mirror, he could see the van full of SWAT team men in hot pursuit.

Alex was hoping to deter them by breaking every road rule known to man, but they relentlessly followed him, regardless of the violations. With a curse, he finally deserted the tactic, and decided he would exploit their weaknesses. They were in a van, after all- not the best vehicle for manuvering.

He spontaneously turned right, hoping that the large van couldn't follow. Alex looked back, hopeful, but they were still in it, even if they had to drive on the sidewalk and nearly run over several pedestrians to succeed.

The teen planned on trying a similar tactic on the road ahead, but his hopes were dashed when he saw not one, but _three _cop cars join the chase. Alex groaned. There was no way he could get rid of four tails just by twisting left and right. He pressed his foot harder down on the gas pedal, willing the machine to pick up the speed. His car went faster, but so did the other four behind him. he had to think of a way out of this mess before it got ugly. After all, most car chases end in a crash.

When Alex thought his situation couldn't get any worse, he looked up. Above him there were several helicopters, currently very high up, but they could swoop down and cut him off in seconds if necessary. He took a closer look at the choppers and a wave of relief flowed through him. On closer inspection, he could see people with cameras angled down on the scene, and a logo on the bottom of the craft- CBS. They were news helicopters.

However, this realization came with an ugly reminder- everyone knew who he was and what he did. But only the bad parts. Everyone thought he was a cold-blooded terrorist. _No! _Alex clenched his teeth and forced the thoughts out of his mind. He didn't want to think like that. He couldn't _afford _to think like that.

He tried instead to focus on a plan. Coming up with one seemed to get harder by the second, near-impossible now that he had helicopters on his tail. They weren't bound to the road, and no matter who they belonged to, they could still inform the police of where he was if he managed to lose his multiple chasers. With each new idea seeming more ridiculous than the next, he was tempted to give up. _ The only way this is ending is in a crash. _He thought bitterly. But the thoughts sparked a new idea. _It's a crash they want? It's a crash they're going to get. _

"Let's go, rolling in five, four, three two-" the camera man gave the signal and the news broadcast begun. Two anchors with unnaturally perfect hair and skin begun reciting the script.

"It was revealed just twenty minutes ago that the man responsible for the assassination attempt on out secretary of state was not a man- but, in fact, a boy. Alex Rider, 15 years old, has been accused of trying to kill one of our nation's leaders, with the help of MI6. Although no evidence has been produced to show MI6's involvment, it is clear that Alex Rider was the shooter.

"We now find Alex Rider in a high-speed car chase on the streets of San Fransico." The anchorman said as a video appeared on the screen. "We have sent out our helicopter, and we will be providing live coverage of the chase." The screen showed five cars, three cop cars close together, gaining on a fourth, which lay ahead, and one large black van just behind the cars.

"Rider is taking a sharp left, but the authorities persist." The anchorwoman added. "Now he's- what's this? He just entered a parking lot!" Alex's car broke through the barrier. The three cop cars followed, but the SWAT van stayed behind.

"The van is out of the game, it is too large to fit in the entrance." The anchorman commented. The footage got harder to see; the watchers could only catch split-second glimpses of the cars as they passed the windows, slowly cimbing the spiral structure. With each floor, Alex put more and more distance in between him and the cops, so much so that they would sometimes be a floor below. By the time the chase had reached the top, the helicopter had found a good angle and the audience of CBS News could clearly see Alex's car on the second-to-last floor, with the cops gaining quickly. Alex's car sped straight towards the window. "What is Rider doing?" The anchorman added, confused. The car never stopped.

The stolen cop car burst through the window and went barreling towards the street, six stories below. Time slowed down, he seemed to fall for ages. The spell was broken when the car collided with the pavement, resulting in a large explosion. The firey mass grew, the flames seemed to roll down the street, swallowing up anything in its path. Thick, black smoke blew up and around in the San Fransico breeze.

"Wow! Would you look at that!" The anchorwoman shouted. "Looks like our young assassin's flight is over." The helicopters flew away and the cop cars drove back to the station. Their job was done; Alex Rider was dead.

After waitng four hours for the damage of the explosion to be dealt with, a teen boy rolled out from under a car on the top floor of the parking lot. Alex Rider jumped up and stretched his legs out. Four hours is a long time to be waiting under a car. His clothes and skin were covered in grime, but it was better than being in jail. He smiled at his trick. He had jumped out of the car at the last second, unbeknownst to the cops and to the news crew. Everyone thought he was dead.

At that thought, a new revelation came to mind. _Everyone thinks I'm dead… even Sabina! _Alex immeadiatley took out his phone and dialed her number. _She must be freaking out! _ After one ring, a female voice answered the phone.

"It's me, Sab. I'm okay." Alex responded.

"A-Alex!" Sabina croaked. He voice was scratchy, like she had been crying. "I thought you were…" She abandoned the sentence.

"I'm so sorry. I needed to get the police off my back." Alex responded.

"I'm just so glad you're okay." She sounded relieved, like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "What are you going to do now?"

"I-" Alex paused. Sure, he wasn't in immeadiate danger, but if someone on the street recognized him, he'd be right back at square one. And even if no one saw him, it wouldn't be long until the police realized there were no remains in the car wreck and put two and two together. "I'll call MI6. They might know how to help."

"Alex! I will not let you go back to those monsters!" Sabina spat.

"I don't want to ask them for help any more than you do, but what else am I supposed to do? Besides, its not like they can send me on another mission, now that everyone knows my face."

"I guess you're right. Just be careful, Alex. Don't let anyone see you."

"I know, Sab. I gotta go."

"Good luck." Sabina hung up the phone.

Alex opened up the keypad and dialed the number he knew all too well. After two rings, the phone was answered. 

"Alex." Mrs. Jones said. She didn't seem surprised in the least that he was alive.

"Hi, Ms. Jones. I'm sure you've figured this out by now, but I really need your help. Can you maybe send a plane down here to take me back to England?" Alex responded, straight to the point. He didn't want to spend a minute longer than he had to talking to the head of MI6.

"Well, we have run into some complications…" She trailed off.

"What _complications?" _Alex tensed. He was not liking where this conversation was going.

"As you know, Scorpia was able to collect a significant amount of evidence of your work. They also have proof of you working for us, but they didn't include it in their annoucment."

"Why wouldn't they? Don't they know how much political chaos that would cause? I thought Scorpia fed off that kind of stuff."

"That's the point Alex. They know how bad that would be for our relationship with America. So, they made a deal with us. They'll keep that particular proof private, if we don't help you."

"Are you KIDDING ME?!" Alex shouted into the phone. "SO YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE ME FOR DEAD? AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE TO HELP YOU?!"

"Alex, if we could help, we would, but the results would be-" Jones started, but was cut off.

"Just shut up, I don't need your excuses. Good-bye, have a fun time leaning back in your office sucking on a peppermint while I RUN AROUND A FOREIGN COUNTRY AS A WANTED TERRORIST!" Alex hung up, seething. Deep down, he understood why they weren't helping. Instead of possible war, MI6 could write Alex off as a freelancer and Britain and the US would remain allies.

_No. _MI6 could easily prove Alex's innocence with case files, witnesses, you name it. They were an extremely powerful organization that could do whatever they wanted. However, they weren't going to help Alex, not because it wasn't possible, but because it was _easier. _Better to pretend like they had never hired a minor so they didn't have to face the consequences. Better to avoid all the backlash; all the _nasty attention. _It was exactly the move that Jones would make, and Scorpia knew it.

But that wasn't his beggest concern at the moment. He had no money, save $10 in his pocket, no food, shelter, or anyone to go to. The only people he was close enough with in America were the Pleasures, and he was positive that they would be constantly surveyed, their phones tapped, the full nine yards. Alex wouldn't be surprised if his call to Sabina was already recorded and listened to by the authorities.

At this thought, Alex realized that the content of a call wasn't the only thing that could be accessed on a cell phone. They could track his _location, _too. Alex quickly threw his phone against the wall, letting it shatter into microscopic pieces across the parking lot. Maybe he was being paranoid, but better safe than sorry. With no more use for the lot, Alex found the stairs and started his descent to ground level.

Thirty minutes later, Alex found himself in an internet café, hunched over a computer with his hood up. He opened up the search engine typed in his name, and immeadiatley, twelve news stories about Alex Rider dominated the browser. His eyes were flooded with pictures of him doing terrible things, at least things that looked terrible out of context. The most frequently used picture was a screenshot of the video of Julius Greif running out of the sniper room, his eyes cold and malicious. Alex clicked on a random article. On the right collumn, readers could comment about the story. He read page after page of people cursing him and his country.

"_I always knew the Brits had it out for us." "He deserves to rot in Hell for what he's done." "Thank God he's dead."_

The comments weren't what bothered him, he had plenty of experience with much nastier people, but the fact that he had probably saved every commenter's life once or twice is what irked him. they had no idea about all the good deeds he had done for them. Scorpia had sculpted a true hero into America's #1 most hated individual.

Alex quickly rid the screen of the comments and typed in his next search. _Joe Byrne._ He hit enter and prayed. If he could even find out the general area of where the man was, then maybe he could get his help. It was long shot, but his only one at the moment.

Byrne was one of the few people still alive and in the country who knew the real story behind the assassination attempt, and Alex knew he would help him. Instead of what Alex was hoping for, a confrence date and location or something of the sort, a current news article popped up. Luckily, the news article wasn't about Alex. Unluckily, it was something much, much, worse.

_CIA Waterboarding Revealed-Director and Accomplices Fired! _The title screamed. He clicked on the link and read through it.

_Last month, it was revealed by an anonymous source that the CIA has yet again been waterboarding terror suspects. After delving into the accusation, four CIA Agents, including Joe Byrne, the deputy director of the Covert Actions Division of the CIA, were found guilty of waterboarding on two occasions within the same week in Cairo, Egypt. The agents and the director were fired, discredited, and currently face criminal charges. _

The words came like a blow to the face. Every single person that knew of the real Alex Rider, who knew what really went down in Cairo, were now criminals right alongside Alex. Anything they said to defend him wouldn't be given a second thought. They held no power, and they couldn't help. Alex officially had no one.

Well, things just keep getitng worse and worse for our buddy here don't they? Sorry that everything seems to end up in disaster, but I promise, it's just going to get better from here! I have some serious stuff planned for this! Besides, I needed to explain why Alex wasn't getting any help. But hey... here's a sneak peak for those of you who actually read these end notes… our four favorite men with animal names may step in! Whaddya think about that, huh?

Please review, because I know you might think I'm exaggertaing, but they seriously are my number one motivator for writing more chapters. And the contructive ones help make the story much better!

Shout out to **TheMichiganWriter **for giving me the sweetest reveiws out of everyone for this fic! She is one of the biggest reasons that I want to keep writing this, along with the rest of my lovely reveiwers!


	4. Rock Bottom

Uhh... Oops. That took forever.

Sorry! I feel so bad! I was on vacation, then I was swamped with a HUGE forensics assignment, then I just kinda fell off my schedule after that. but, I'm here now, and I put some extra effort into the quality of this one (mainly in the beginning) to compensate! The next chapter will be coming very very soon too, I'm already almost done with it.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 4

Alex shuffled out of the coffee shop, putting on a cool façade, but his head was a storm cloud. Thunder was doubt and fear was lightning, appearing often and never far apart. The mix was panic- a deadly tempest. With nowhere else to turn, no plan B, he had finally broken. The false sense of hope that he could possibly have a chance to prove his innocence was gone, and he was falling apart.

The second Alex was away from the prying eyes of the barista he ran, attempting to let the anxiety out of his system, to no avail. His feet led him to an empty alley, riddled with broken bottles and skewed with trash bags. He approached a dumpster and ducked behind it, curling up against the graffiti and rust stains. Rocking back and forth with his knees to his chest, the smell of week old garbage already sinking into his skin- he was the epitome of pathetic.

Long gone was the tough hero who saved the world, or the easygoing adoptive brother- all that was left was a cast, a reflection of a face that was once bright and happy. Where Alex Rider once stood tall a shell of a boy now lay. His famous out-of-the-hat plans from his missions with MI6 stayed back in England, and he was drawing blanks. All he could do was sit and cry.

It is said that the life of a fugitive is a lonely and depressing one- that leads to indescribable feeling of despair and terror so strong that it makes even the toughest go mad. Most have no purpose but the desire to be free, to escape the law, whether they be innocent or guilty. They can't go running home to friends and family, because they know the police will be watching them the closest. All they can do is sit, alone, and pray that no one recognizes their face. The paranoia sets in- they're too afraid to sleep and be vulnerable, or step into the public eye and be seen, that they are left in isolation with only their thoughts to pass the time.

And those thoughts- they are not pleasant in the slightest. They eat at your preserves of determination and whittle away your reason with every possible scenario that all end in your demise. Minutes after the fugitive opens up to their psyche, it swallows them whole.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Alex knew this, as if a quiet but resilient voice in his brain was screaming at him, warning him, through soundproof walls. Faint, barely audible, but there.

He forced himself away from the thoughts of death and misery, and tried to focus on a plan. His recalled another one of Ian's lessons:

"_Whenever you have a problem you can't solve, assess the situation. Break it down into steps. Start with what you need to accomplish, then figure out what you need to do in order to accomplish that, then what you need to do to accomplish that, and so on. If you get stuck, reassess what you have going for you. Knowledge, materials and the like. Do this, and the hardest of challenges will turn into a walk in the park. _

Alex stepped back and surveyed the situation.

_What do I need to do? _

_Prove my innocence. _

_How can I accomplish that? _

_Let people know the whole story. _

At that, his breath caught in his throat. He realized the full weight of what he was committing to. He was going against solid video and picture evidence, no matter how fake it was. He would not only need the proof that contradicted Scorpia's, he needed even more details, ones they didn't have.

He couldn't just tell the world one part of his story, he would have to tell all of it.

He released the breath he was holding, and took another deep one.

_How can I accomplish that?_

* * *

Tom Harris sat in dumbstruck silence, the TV on in the background.

Five hours ago his best friend's greatest secret had been revealed to the world, and soon after he was declared dead.

Since then, all he had done was sit in a daze. The whole day seemed unreal, like a dream. A horrible nightmare.

He reflected back on that afternoon. He was sitting in French, and just a few minutes before school got out, the screen flickered to life.

_"This video is currently playing on every computer in the world."_

_ "Rider is only fifteen years of age and is employed in Britain's MI6."_

_ "He will not hesitate to kill you." _

Like the rest of his class, they all watched in deafening silence. The only sound came from the video. Brookland's hadn't seen head nor tail of Alex since he ran off to chase a gunman nearly half a year ago, and they were hanging on to every word of the explanation they had craved for ages.

The worst part? They believed it. Tom could see it in their eyes. Sure, the main reaction was shock, massive amounts of shock, but behind that was a sort of… acceptance. As if the video had answered all their questions, and they trusted it to be the truth without a doubt.

_Tom shot out of his seat and walked up to the front of the class, blocking the screen. He would defend his friend to the end if he had to, so defend him he would. _

"_Don't listen to this propaganda! It's all made up! He did work for MI6, but he didn't try to kill the secretary of state, he didn't try to launch America's nuclear missiles, and he is __**not **__a terrorist! He is a good guy who gave up his childhood to save all of you! This video is twisting things. This isn't all of the facts! He's a hero, for Christ's sake!" Tom ranted, breathing hard. The whole class had subconsciously leaned away from him, taken aback by the outburst._

_A girl in the third row, Addie, was the first to recover. "How do you know all that? Did Alex tell you?" _

_Tom immediately regretted opening his mouth. _

_The next ten minutes were an onslaught of questions. He felt as if he was being interrogated by thirty people at a time, which was, he thought, exactly what was happening. The words jumbled together and he couldn't understand a thing. _

"_Why did he tell you?" "What else has he done?" "How did he become a spy?" "Is the video true?" _

Tom tried his best to defend Alex and give as little as possible about him away, but it got harder as the questions went on. He couldn't focus on one for very long without another being pushed his way, and, to be honest, he didn't know much about the business in Cairo.

Alex had told Tom that he had been in Egypt for a few weeks to hide out and that things went wrong, but that was all he would say. The only other thing he knew is that Jack Starbright was dead, and that whatever went down in Egypt had changed Alex permanently.

When Alex had first told Tom the truth about him, he had seemed so… nonchalant. He went through ordeals no teenager should ever experience; yet he didn't seem scared of recalling them. He said he didn't really think about it that much.

"It's over and done." He would say. "It turned out alright and that's all that matters."

But in Egypt, things hadn't turned out all right, and Alex had changed. He had a haunted look to his features, one similar to a war veteran. He was quieter and more reserved, and showed less emotion than ever.

Tom Skyped him to keep in touch after the move, and as the weeks went on Alex became more and more like he used to be. Sarcastic, witty, easygoing. But he would never be the same. It was hard to spot unless you really knew him, but it was there. He would always have the ghosts of his past lurking beneath his eyes. They had seen horror that couldn't be retold, and that horror was forever tattooed on the face of the survivor.

_"We should check the news." Tom suggested as an attempt to escape the bombardment of questions. "They might have a story on what Alex is doing now." _

_ Tom's plan was successful, as the teacher opened up the news webpage and all eyes shifted to the projector screen. _

_"We now find Alex Rider in a high-speed car chase on the streets of San Francisco." The anchorman said as a video appeared on the screen. "We have sent out our helicopter, and we will be providing live coverage of the chase." _

_The class gasped. The video had just been released and Alex was already running for his life? _

_ The news reporters recapped how Alex found himself being chased, including his escape from the SWAT team. Needless to say, the class was extremely impressed._

_ "I knew Rider was smart, but damn." Toby, a football player, muttered. The students immediately shushed him so they could hear the anchorman, but it was clear they all agreed. Now that they had a new perspective on Alex, courtesy of Tom, they didn't think of Alex the same way the Americans did. They wanted him to survive, to outrun the law. The kids said nothing, but if their silent support for their old classmate were spoken, it would be deafening. _

_ The chase continued on for about five more minutes. Never once did the class' eyes leave the screen. Soon, Alex's car began the ascent up the parking lot complex, and he reached the top at an alarming speed. _

_What Tom saw next, he wished he could erase from his memory. _

Five hours later Tom found himself staring at the TV, tuned on to the news.

"He can't be dead. He just can't." He said to himself.

The channel was playing an unrelated story; he could hear the voices but the words didn't quite reach his ears. All that mattered was news about Alex's survival, but there was not word yet.

So he sat and stared, waiting to hear to news he yearned for.

* * *

Alex looked at the smudged writing on his hand; a list he had written with an old ballpoint pen he had found in the corner of the alley.

_Squirt gun, black spray paint. _

Alex walked a few blocks down from the Internet café and approached a run down convenience store, the lights flickering and half burnt out, but still announcing it was open. Alex was relieved, most stores had closed for the day, but the gas station and it's shop remained open. He walked inside with fake confidence, but winced when the bell on the rusty door rung, announcing his presence. God, he had always _hated _that.

Making a quick recovery, Alex strolled down the half-empty and unorganized aisles until he found the two things on his list. He found both fairly quickly; his natural luck coming back to him.

It was almost funny, the way that he would always land himself in the most unlucky situations, but little strokes of luck would help him get out of them. If he really was lucky, he would have never even become a spy, much less be wanted terrorist in the middle of a city he barely knew.

Alex walked up to the checkout, merchandise in hand. He set it all down on the table, and the cashier scanned and bagged his items. Alex made sure to adjust his hood so it covered as much of his face as possible. He was supposed to be dead, therefore off the streets, but that didn't mean people wouldn't recognize him. Who could forget the face of the infamous teenage terrorist?

"That'll be $7.48." The cashier said with a smile that stretched her lips to their full extent. How someone could be so cheery at this time of night working at a gas station was beyond Alex. He gave the woman a huge portion of the small amount of money he had. His heart fell seeing the near-empty wallet, but he knew he would need what he bought.

"Thank you, have a nice day." The woman said in the same happy voice that made her sound like a chipmunk. Alex gave a quick nod and grabbed the plastic bag. He turned toward the door and let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. She didn't recognize him, _thank God. _

Just as Alex thought his luck of the devil was returning, fate stopped playing nice. The plastic bag holding his merchandise was made of the cheapest material possible, and as is barely snagged on the corner of the checkout counter, the whole thing ripped open and his stuff went clattering to the ground.

Alex moved fast to grab everything form the ground, but the cashier was faster.

"Oh, dear! Let me help!" She ran around to Alex's side of the table and reached down to pick up the spray paint can. She looked up to hand it to Alex. Their eyes met, and the woman's facial expression changed from one of unnatural cheeriness to shock, then fear. She didn't say a word, but her eyes spoke volumes.

Alex was no fool. He knew what she knew. So, he did the only logical thing to do- he scooped up his things and fled.

* * *

Bah Boom! That's right! yeah... actually not that much happened. but I left so many questions! Like:

What is Alex's big plan?

What is he doing with the stuff he bought?

What is Tom going to do now? (hint; Something big)

When is K-Unit being introduced in the story (next chapter!)

So not that many questions, but eh. more than usual.

Shout out to a **Guest reviewer** for the sweetest, most detailed review known to human kind. You touched my heart homie and I hope you see this little note.

Thanks to the ever-amazing **TheMichiganWriter** for her constant reviewing and endless support! And you're fun to chat with!

And thank you to **StolenBook** for all the feedback!

I guess that's it, new update in about three days!

-Archer


	5. Helping Hand

Okay, so it wasn't four days like I said, but I still updated way earlier than last time. i think form now on, I'll aim for a chapter a week. Sounds fair?

* * *

Chapter 5

"Ah, home sweet home." Eagle said as he flopped on the couch of his apartment, shifting so he could put his feet on the coffee table. The rest of K-Unit, Wolf and Snake, followed suit.

"About time we get some R&amp;R, huh?" Snake said, reaching for the remote.

"Seriously. That last stretch in Syria was brutal." Wolf added.

"Oh, boo hoo." Mocked a voice from the entrance. The unit turned to find their old unit-mate, Fox, leaning against the doorframe.

"Dude! You're here already!" Eagle exclaimed.

"Always doing that stupid bit, sneaking up on us…" Wolf grumbled, but it was clear he was happy to see the agent.

"Well, I was already in the neighborhood when you called." Fox shrugged, settling on the couch with the rest of them. "Eagle, go get some beer."

"Snake, go get some beer." Eagle echoed to the medic. Snake turned to Wolf and opened his mouth, but snapped it shut as soon as he saw the deathly glare on the man's face.

"Alright, I'll go get the goddamn beer." Snake muttered as he tossed the remote to Eagle and walked to the kitchen. Eagle caught the remote and turned on the TV. The evening news was already playing, and Eagle moved to change the station, but Fox stopped him.

"Wait!" he shouted, grabbing Eagle's wrist and pointing at the screen. The unit was met with the face of their unofficial unit member, Cub.

Snake was called over and rushed back to the living room. All eyes were locked on the screen. The headline read: TEEN TERRORIST ALEX RIDER FAKED HIS DEATH: SPOTTED NORTH OF RUSSIAN HILL, SAN FRANSICO. The picture was of Cub holding a sniper rifle against a brick wall. Underneath is the word WANTED was printed in large red block letters. The men were floored.

"What has this kid been up to?" Fox exclaimed. He recalled the last time he had seen the boy. I was just after the Snakehead mission when they were giving their statements in the Royal and General. It took a while, mainly because of Alex's stubborn, teenage rebellion and his frequent sarcastic comments.

He seemed to be taking all of the life-threatening events that had happened pretty well. Fox couldn't help but wonder what else the boy had gone through to made raiding a giant watercraft and nearly dying seem like no big deal.

He had always been curious about Cub. He knew he worked for MI6, that much was clear, but all the details were unbeknownst to him. Something big had definitely happened since he saw Alex last, something that had turned him into Public Enemy #1 in the US.

Fox kept his eyes on the screen and kept watching the news, hoping to get some information on the situation in San Francisco. They referenced some, but they seem to expect viewers to already know what happened. Since all of K-Unit had been working, they never caught the story.

"Hey Fox, come on over here!" Snake called from the office around the corner. Fox glanced up. He didn't realize that he was the only one left in the living room. He ran over to the office, where the rest of the Unit was huddled around a desktop computer. Fox craned his neck to see the screen from behind the men.

Eagle had found a video labeled: "SECRETS OF THE ATTMEPTED SECREATRY OF STATE ASSASSINATION: REVEALED! TEENAGE ASSASSIN ALEX RIDER TO BLAME."

"Oh my God." He whispered. Wolf hurried to click on the video. The first image was of a silver scorpion logo. The unit knew what that meant all too well.

"Why is a video about Cub by Scorpia?" Snake asked, confused. He and Eagle shared a look. It was clear what conclusion they were jumping to, and it wasn't a good one. The video only confirmed their suspicions.

"_Teenage assassin Alex Rider is responsible for the attempted assassination."_

…

"_He has tried to launch America's nuclear missiles and even joined a terrorist organization." _

…

"_He tried to kill the deputy head of MI6." _

…

"_He is extremely dangerous and will not hesitate to kill you." _

…

"The kid is a terrorist!" Snake exclaimed after the video was over.

"He works for Scorpia?" Eagle added.

"Stop being such idiots!" Fox shouted. All three heads turned to look at him. Eagle and Snake sported matching looks of surprise, while Wolf seemed torn. He had worked with Cub before, but it was a long time ago and he didn't know what to believe.

"Alex is _not _a terrorist, or an assassin. He works for MI6 as a spy, not a ruthless killer!" Fox continued.

"And how would you know this Fox?" Eagle asked, still very skeptical.

"I… went on a mission with him." Fox said, biting his lip. That was classified information, but he figured it was pointless to hide now that Alex had been revealed to the world.

"You did WHAT?" Snake shouted, shocking the rest of the unit. Snake was normally very quiet and reserved, but something about the business surrounding Alex had seriously unnerved him.

"I went on a mission with him. He had gone undercover with the Australian Secret Service, managed to bring down a drug smuggling operation, locate a stolen British bomb and figure out Scorpia's plans for it, and helped raid and destroy the watercraft where the bomb was being kept, as well as preventing Scorpia's plans from following through. Now tell me that sounds like a terrorist." Fox explained calmly. His unit's reaction, however, were not as calm.

"Why the hell didn't you tell us? You're part of our unit!" Eagle accused.

"You know those kind of things are classified. I shouldn't be telling you at all, but I am." Fox countered.

"I went on a mission with him too." Wolf said, finally speaking up. It was Fox's turn to be surprised. Wolf stood tall, shoulders back. He seemed to have formed his opinion on Cub and was ready to deliver.

"He is incredibly resourceful. I saw him snowboard down a mountain and off of a ski jump on an ironing board, avoiding getting shot all the while. Immediately afterwards, he crashed into a train, survived, and was up and ready to complete the mission almost no time at all after waking up in the hospital. Because of him, we were able to stop a mad scientist from taking over key players in the economy, with would have spelled disaster." After his spiel, Wolf realized how ridiculous that sounded. He could barely believe it had really happened, and he was afraid the rest of the unit would think he was bluffing. However, that was not the case.

"You too Wolf?" Eagle barked. "What kind of unit are we if we keep secrets form each other?"

"Same deal, Eagle. Classified." Wolf glared, sick of Eagle's protests. "But now that you know more of the story, do you still think of Alex as a terrorist?" Wolf addressed both Snake and Eagle. He was met with silence. Finally, Snake spoke up.

"Sure, he was good when you guys worked with him, but he could have changed. Switched to the dark side after the missions with you. This doesn't prove anything about who he is now." Snake made a good point, one Fox and Wolf had a hard time refuting. Suddenly, Fox had an idea.

"Wait. Eagle, go back to the part in the video where Cub is shooting at targets." Fox ordered, and Eagle obliged, unsure of where his unit-mate was going.

"Pause it." Fox spoke. The video stopped at a still of Alex firing a bullet into a human-shaped target, his eyes cold and devoid of expression. Fox cringed, but still pursued his hunch. "Look in the background of the picture. See the water, and the land on the distance? That's Venice. You can tell by all the channels."

"Is there a point to this?" Snake asked.

"Yes, just shut up and let me finish." Fox scolded, sick of Eagle and Snake's stubborn skepticism. "The only island that would be in that area, south of Venice, is Malagosto. That's Scorpia's training facility."

"That just proved that he is training with terrorists!" Eagle remarked.

"It proves he was working with _Scorpia. _Now, we know Scorpia made the video. Why would they expose their own agent?" Fox said, his point finally reached. Understanding dawned on the rest of the unit. However, and answer to the question did not.

"Uh, revenge?" Wolf offered.

"And why would they want revenge on their own agent?" Fox asked.

"He must have screwed them over!" Eagle said. If the answer was a puzzle it was nearly solved, the picture clear.

"And he would only do that if he were a double agent. That video isn't just of him training with Scorpia, but of him working undercover against Scorpia." Fox concluded, resting his case.

"Oh, God, you're right. I feel awful." Eagle said, admitting defeat. Snake, however, stayed adamant.

"Oh, come one, we don't know that for sure. He could've just got scared and ran. Then they could have been trying to find him for a while and snuff him out, but couldn't, so decided they would let the authorities do it for them." Snake argued.

"That seems ridiculously far-fetched." Wolf interjected. The other three men nodded in agreement.

"It's really not, considering the circumstances. He's a teenage assassin, for Christ's sake! I can think of tons of things that are more far-fetched then that. Besides, how do you explain everything else he's done? Almost killing Jones? Trying to detonate nuclear missiles? MI6 wouldn't have set him up to that." Snake yelled, red in the face.

"Dude, what's your problem with this kid anyhow?" Fox snapped, slamming his palms on the desk. The slap echoed behind his words. "Why are so sure that he's defected to Scorpia? You barely know him."

"Clearly, none of us know him." Wolf added solemnly, gesturing to the screen and bringing Fox back to the whole point of this argument.

"We'll talk about this later Snake. But for now, we need to make a decision." Fox commanded.

"A decision… about what, exactly?" Eagle put in.

"How we're going to help Cub out of this mess." Fox answered.

"Why the hell would we do that?" Snake snarled.

"He's part of K-Unit. We help each other out. He certainly needs our help now." Fox explained.

"That kid isn't part of our unit! He trained with us for two weeks, has never been on duty with us, and he's not part of the SAS." Snake protested.

"He's been on duty with me and Wolf. Besides, I'm MI6 now, yet you all still consider me part of K-Unit. Why shouldn't he be?" Fox reasoned.

"The man's got a point." Wolf noted.

"I'm not helping a terrorist." Snake stated firmly, crossing his arms like a little kid.

"Don't be so damn immature. The only evidence we have of that is a propaganda video _by the enemy! _Now if we take that to be the truth, we would be gullible fools. You haven't gotten this far in the SAS by being a fool." Wolf scolded, leaning over Snake. "We are going to help our team member, and you are helping too." He commanded. Wolf rarely enforced his role as the unit leader, as he tried to keep things equal. This way, when he did, it was that much more intimidating and hard to ignore.

"Fine." Snake sighed. He couldn't disobey an order form the unit leader. And he would never admit it, but the men had made some pretty good points."But when we get the chance to talk to him, he better explain everything or I'll turn him into the cops immediately." Snake said, his statement not wavering.

"Alright, sounds like a good compromise to me." Eagle clapped his hands and he spoke, as if trying to distill the tension in the room with the action. Eagle was an easygoing guy, and people who are close friends fighting unnerved him. "First things first," Eagle continued, "How are we going to help him, exactly?"

"Let's call '6, see if they have a plan in motion already." Wolf suggested.

"On it." Fox said, grabbing his phone and hitting the speed dial button. He put the phone to his ear, happy to escape the now awkward tension in the room. The other three sat in silence, the anger form the fight dissipating and seeping through the floorboards. The team was close, and couldn't stay mad at each other for long.

After not even ten seconds, Fox's call escalated to shouting. He went into the other room, while the unit exchanged confused expressions. Finally, Fox returned to the room, seething with rage.

"Those bastards aren't going to help him!" He hissed, punching the wall.

"Why the hell not?" Wolf boomed.

"Apparently Scorpia is blackmailing them. If they help Alex, they'll prove that he is employed with MI6." Fox explained, clenching and unclenching his fists. The rest of the men knew enough about politics to know how disastrous that would be for England.

"What did Cub do to piss these guys off so much?" Eagle wondered out loud. The rest of the men were thinking the same thing.

"No matter what he did, we're going to help him." Fox said, his promise still standing.

"But Fox, we can't." Eagle said, tentatively. He could see that Fox was set on the idea of bailing Cub out, and was hesitant to get in the way of that determination.

"Scorpia said _MI6 _couldn't help Alex out. You guys are SAS." Fox grinned.

"Do you really think Scorpia is going to be okay with us using that loophole?" Snake said, speaking up for the first time after the argument. "This deal isn't set in stone, I bet they'll post the evidence even if they hear a whisper of _anyone _helping Cub."

"Well then, we'll have to make sure they don't find out." Fox concluded. No matter what obstacle there was to get past, Fox would do it. He may have only known the kid for a short amount of time, and clearly didn't know him well, but when two people go into a dangerous situation together and come out alive, they grow close. That's why SAS units are like family. They've seen and overcome darkness together, and that forms a unique bond that compares to no other.

"Easier said than done." Wolf noted, snapping Fox out of his reverie. The gears began to turn. "The fewest amount of people possible can know about what we're trying to pull off. It would have to be some pretty serious black ops." Wolf continued. "We would have to fly into the country undetected and unauthorized, and that's the easy part. After that, we have to actually find Cub, someone whose only purpose at the moment is to hide. Getting to the states alone could take weeks. Who know show long it will take for us to find the kid." Wolf finished. He wanted to help Alex just as bad as Fox, but he was taking a logical approach. And logic was not in their favor.

"Finding him may be easier than you think." Fox responded. "He trained with us for two weeks. All the training and knowledge he received, we received right there with him. It would be idiotic for him not to utilize that skill now. So, whatever he does, is exactly what we would do. We know how he thinks better than anyone hunting him down in the states, which gives us a huge advantage." Fox finished. The rest of the unit had to admit, his logic was solid. Their goal seemed to get more attainable by the minute.

"Alright, you got me." Wolf submitted. "Let's go get that plane."

* * *

Not my favorite chapter, that's for sure. Too much cheesy dialogue, not enough action, but it had to be done. And besides, I've been waiting to incorporate K-Unit, and now I have!

Shoutouts!

Thank you to **Platero **for the kind review, it was so sweet and it brightened my day!

Thanks to **Wolf77, **for reviewing every single chapter in one sitting, which is insane. (P.S.: Read her Alex Rider fic! It is really really good!)

That's all for this week, see you next week! Maybe!


	6. Destination: Heathrow

Wow, look, guess who finally uploaded! yeah, whoops. I told myself "once it's summer vacation you'll have so much time to write!" but i got lazy. So... it took a while. but here we are now, and I'm feeling pretty good about this chapter. Enjoy!

Also something really important for my british readers: What are your school vacation schedules like? Are they different from America? I need this for a future chapter!

* * *

Chapter 6

"Almost there," Alex hissed words of encouragement to himself between clenched teeth. His feet flew across the gravel, spraying a dust of tiny pebbles behind him. He held onto his supplies from the convenience store for dear life, which made it even harder to run. Wind whipped around him from all directions. He feared he would be spotted any second.

Running after a freight train is much harder than it looks.

After the cashier had recognized him, Alex had caught a lucky break- the convenience store where he was spotted was quite far from any police stations, and there were plenty of streets to duck into and disappear quickly. By the time the police had arrived, Alex was long gone.

Thirty minutes later, he found himself trying to hop on in one of the crates of a cargo train. _How hard could it be? _He remembered thinking when he first broke into a run. After rapid sprinting for nearly five minutes, he was having his doubts. His legs were burning with the effort, his face must have been beet red, and his throat felt as dry as the Sahara.

Finally, like the light at the end of a tunnel, a turn in the rails appeared. The train was a long one; in order to make the turn safely, it would have to slow down. As it approached the turn, Alex was able to transfer all his materials to one hand, grab on to a pole sticking out of one of the boxcars, and pull himself on.

Once he was finally on the train, he collapsed with exhaustion. His legs felt like they had turned into jell-o. As he sat, he took a good look around the area. The crate was very small, much smaller than they typically look from the outside.

It was metal, not wood, so the inside was hot. Very, very hot. Alex was usually a big fan of the constant sunny weather in San Francisco, after living in rainy London his whole life, but right now, he wasn't too pleased. After his sprint, he wanted an ice bath and a pina colada, not a glorified oven.

He found the nearest box and cracked it open, out of curiosity. He expected it to be something useless, such as cooking utensils or some other simple machinery. However, uniformly stacked in the box were packets upon packets of airplane peanuts.

He couldn't believe his luck. Free transportation and free food? He greedily ripped open a packet and scarfed down it's contents. With the fact that he hadn't eaten since breakfast and the cold truth that food would probably be rare in the future, vacuum-packed, plastic flavored nuts seemed like a gift from the heavens. The feeling of sustenance filling his stomach momentarily buried his doomsday mentality, and blanketed his fears with food-induced bliss.

After inhaling nearly half of the box's contents, Alex finally remembered what he intended to do while on the train. He grabbed the squirt gun and spray paint from the convenience store, and set to work.

As he began to coat the squirt gun in paint, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. This stroke of brilliance didn't come from Scorpia, Ian, or MI6. He saw it in some action movie a few years back. Who said TV was a waste of time?

As he continued to cover the gun in black, his mind began to wander. Something at the back of his mind was nagging him about Scorpia's video. Something just seemed off. As his hand hovered back and forth over the squirt gun, Alex realized.

It made sense how Scorpia was able to get video and photographic evidence for the mission in Cairo, since that was the whole point, but what about the video clip form Air Force One? He hadn't even encountered Scorpia yet, he didn't even know they existed, yet they had a video of him. It just didn't add up.

His memory dug up the answer for him a few minutes later. He recalled a brief conversation with Ms. Jones right after he was forgiven for trying to assassinate her.

"_How did you know I was coming to kill you anyway?" Alex questioned, sitting in the chair beside Jones' desk. _

"_We got an image of you at Malagosto from our satellite. After that, we put two and two together. We do deal in intelligence, after all." Jones explained. _

"_Wow, that's some serious technology right there." Alex mused._

"_Which is why putting out a satellite is such a strict process." Jones continued. "Only a select few are allowed to have one, and the areas within video and audio range are closely monitored for any that are unregistered. It's serious business."_

"_You seem very… informed." Alex noticed. Jones didn't respond, and Alex wasn't surprised. _

The video clips clearly came from satellite imaging, that much was obvious. Due to the angle of the shot, there was really no other option. But if what Mrs. Jones had said was true, than there was no way Scorpia could have a satellite of their own.

He tried to think of ways they could obtain one. False markings, posing as another company, disguising it, but nothing seemed plausible. It was too much work for such a small reward.

It hit him. _They have a mole in MI6. _

It made a lot of sense, really. Who else would have an archive of videos of Alex? Who else would always be keeping tabs on him but MI6? Not only would they be able to collect the videos, but having a spy in such a powerful intelligence agency would have limitless possibilities.

"It would explain how they knew where Royal and General was, for one." Alex grumbled as his scar twinged slightly. Although it never impaired him anymore, he wasn't about to forgive and forget. Especially not now, when the agency had turned his life upside down and framed him for attempted murder. He had to get them back.

That thought got him back on track. _Scorpia has a mole. That mole found videos of me doing incriminating things. _As he digested this, Alex reached another conclusion, and his face lit up. _But that also means there are videos at MI6 of me doing everything else! That's the proof I need to back up my story! _He nearly jumped for joy. His plan for proving himself innocent was becoming more and more of a reality.

_I can clear my name… but I also need to get rid of that mole. But how? _Alex scrunched his brows together. _It's not like I know who it is. _A jolt hit the train and Alex was slammed back into the wall. He slid down it, groaning. He turned his head to the right and saw the pile of empty airplane peanut bags. He had no doubt that this train was headed for the airport, that was obvious enough.

_Well, _Alex thought as he stood up, _What better place to go to investigate a mole in MI6 then the agency itself? _

His new discovery, full stomach, and mind set on revenge gave Alex all the motivation he needed.

"Britain, here I come."

* * *

Tom strolled confidently and surely up to the school building at 6 AM. Well, as confident and sure as you can look on three hours of sleep.

Tom had spent a large portion of the night- a portion regularly spent catching Z's- brainstorming, planning a meeting, and convincing everyone he trusted to come to said meeting, then waking up at 5:30 to go to the damn thing.

From luckily overhearing a conversation earlier that year, Tom knew that the Janitor came in at 5:00 AM to clean classrooms, so his schedule wouldn't collide with the students'. Tom filed away this information, knowing it may come in handy somewhere down the road. He had no idea it would be useful in orchestrating a secret meeting on how to save an innocent man (well, teen) from injustice.

Tom reached the door and gave the handle a turn. As he had hoped, it gave, and he was granted access to the building! He stepped into the dark hallway and headed for the locker room.

Tom had no trouble getting to the locker room, as the janitor was on the third floor, and Tom was on the first. Once he reached his destination he smiled to himself at his clever tricks- knowing when to get in, then finding which lights were on to know where the custodian was. It wasn't much, it was nothing compared to what Alex had done, but he reveled in the fact that he could have his own little tricks. His own personal victory.

He waited until the last light had been switched off, and waited until he heard the squeal of tires exiting the school parking lot, and waited another five minutes for insurance, until he sent a group text: _Ready. _Something simple, one that no one who read it out of context would know what it was talking about. Another simple but effective trick. Maybe Tom wasn't too shabby at this spy stuff. As long as it didn't involve fighting and guns.

Like magic, a herd of school kids emerged from the bushes outside of the school, shook the leaves out of the hair and clothes, then headed for the locker room. Tom opened the door for them, and they all shuffled inside. The group was clearly as tired as Tom, sporting under eye bags and suppressing yawns. They all took a seat on the long bench across from the lockers. Tom stood in front of the students.

They weren't exceptional, that Tom could say for sure. 4 rag-tag teens, a football player here, a swimmer there, all good people, but nothing special. On the outside at least.

On the inside, Tom knew that they all shared a common belief: that Alex was a good person, and Scorpia's video was bullshit. They all wanted his name cleared, And they would be the ones to do just that.

"Alright, guys," Tom addressed the group. "I called your four because I trust you, and I know you're capable of what I'm about to ask. I'm going to cut to the chase and let you all know why you're here. We're going to save Alex."

"That's what we're going to do?" James, a sporty boy, Tom's best friend who used to play football with Alex, piped up. "You were all cloak and dagger about this meeting, so I figured it would be interesting, but this sounds downright deadly! How are we supposed to clear a spy's name without somehow getting involved in some of that danger?" Murmurs from the rest of the teens showed signs of agreement. They weren't capable of the things Alex did.

"No, it's not like that!" Tom backpedaled. "We aren't going to charge into the midst of the manhunt, swords raised, shouting 'For Alex!'" He said with a chuckle, trying to alleviate the uncertainty that had fallen over the kids on the bench. It showed some results with the uneasy laughs of a few, but most were still wary.

Tom continued: "We're going to do this the legal and safe way. Peaceful protest." Tom waited for a response, hoping for a rally of 'hell yeah, when do we start?' but he was met with more scrutiny.

"I still don't know." Ashley, a tall girl with black, sleek hair responded. "I used to be really good friends with Alex, and I completely trust him, but I don't think I'm willing to go that far. People get seriously injured in these protests; they normally don't stay peaceful for long. I don't want to get tear gassed or pepper sprayed."

The rest of the group seemed to feel the same way. Tom's plan, the one he had spent all night conjuring, was falling to pieces. He had to convince them to join him before he lost their support for good.

"Look." Tom said, regaining all of the teenagers' attention. "We aren't the bravest, smartest, or strongest bunch. We're a just a handful of kids, after all." Tom shrugged. "but look at what Alex, a boy the same age as us, is doing right now! He's completely alone, running from the police, and most likely people far worse, that I can guess from what he's told me. And look at what he's done in the past! I can't tell you much, it's not my place to, but let me say, we would all be dead if he didn't do what he has done. And you're telling me you're to scared to yell some shit at passerby?

"We're not super brave, or strong. We're not like Alex. But we don't need to be. We'll help him the way we can, we'll be brave in our own way. All we need to do is call for action. Tell the public the facts, let them think, be the spark that starts a fire! I have total faith that we can make a difference in the way people think of Alex. I mean, there only source of proof came from a video created by terrorists! Let's help our friend, let's give back to the guy that saved our lives!" Tom finished, and looked at his classmates, who were staring back in shock.

"That was one serious pep talk. Didn't know you had that in you." Cameron, a swimmer with big red hair broke the silence.

"And you know what?" James stood up and joined Tom on the other side of the bench. "You're completely right."

"I am?' Tom asked, who took their previous silence as a bad sign.

"Of course you are! Protesting is the least we can do to repay Alex!" James continued, every word causing Toms smile to widen. "Besides, there's no one I'd rather want to protest with than this eloquent guy over here." James put his arm around Tom. First that speech in class yesterday, now this? You'll kill at swaying a crowd!"

"Alright, I'm in." Harry, a blonde, chubby theater kid who Alex was in the school play with stood up and joined the two boys. "Alex deserves a voice."

"I'm in too."

"Me too." Ashley and Cameron stood. The four schoolchildren looked to Tom.

Tom was filled with feelings of success and joy. His plan to save his friend was going to work! Tom clapped his hands together. "Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

Things are getting rolling! Don't forget to REVEIW! Can't stress it enough! Your words will impact my story, how rad is that?

Also, the shoutouts:** Wolf77 **and** TheMichiganWriter **for their consistent reviews, and** Platero **for a very nice, descriptive one. Thanks guys!


	7. Diversions

**Guess who's back? Yeah, sorry. A was hit by a deadly combination of busyness and laziness. This chapter was tough, but I got through it! Consider it an early Christmas present for you guys. Enjoy, and please review!**

_**Important News: **_**I started a new Alex Rider story called The Pain Game! It's high-stakes and intense. I hope you all check it out!**

**disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize (consider this story disclaimed for the rest of the chapters).**

* * *

Chapter 7

Alex wasn't going to bother with customs. The lines were long, the employees were irritating, and the process was a bore. That, and the fact that he was a fugitive from the law made getting past customs quite tricky. In fact, it made the whole entire getting-on-a-plane ordeal quite tricky. It would be a miracle if he could even get a ticket to England last minute, outlaw or not. So, Alex wasn't going to bother.

_But, _He thought as he hopped off the train right outside San Francisco International Airport, _ That doesn't mean I'm not getting on a plane._

* * *

Arnold checked his watch for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes. Forty-five minutes until his break. Each time he glanced at the timepiece, the hands seemed to move slower.

Working security at an airport was so _boring. _When he signed up for the job, he imagined saving the day- tackling terrorists, confiscating bombs- but the most exciting thing that ever happened was finding a squirt gun in a kid's suitcase.

That is, until he heard the alarms.

The red color and blaring noise was unmistakable. In his training, Arnold had been told what this specific alarm meant. A code red: someone had set a bomb off in the airport.

"Explosion on the north end!" His radio crackled, barely audible through the alarm and panic of travellers. With adrenaline tingling on the tips of his toes, Arnold dashed towards the noise, to save the day, to be the hero he wished to be every day of his career.

* * *

Alex snickered as he snuck across the tarmac; not a soul in sight. If he concentrated, he could hear far-off commotion of airport workers rushing to his explosion, and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. It wouldn't be long before they found out that it was just an accident involving poorly placed jet fuel, and no one was harmed. The may find out the truth, but by then, Alex would be long gone, en route to Heathrow.

From this point on, the plan was simple. The hardest part was building the bomb, and even that wasn't very difficult. It was only a matter of sneaking into a supply closet and finding the cleaning supplies that didn't quite agree with each other, and an empty fuel barrel.

This little trick was actually _not _taught to him by his uncle, but warned against by him when Ian found Alex mixing cleaning agents in the laundry room, attempting an eight-year-old science experiment.

"_Alex! What are you doing?" Ian yelled as he caught sight of Alex dumping bleach into a plastic cup. He reached over and grabbed the bottle before Alex could empty another drop. _

_"I'm doing science!" Alex said excitedly, but his excitement mixed with uncertainty after reading Ian's expression. "Just like the big kids do in school." _

_"You can't do science with these!" Ian gestured to the bottles of various cleaners littering the table. "If you mix some of these," Ian picked up an ammonia glass cleaner and bleach, "You could die." _

_"You mean, it blows up?" Alex was torn between being scared and intrigued. he didn't want to die, but he was a little boy, and what little boy doesn't want to see something explode? _

_"This combination doesn't, it creates a toxic gas. Some of these could blow up though." Ian scanned the medley of bottles, nodding, as if remembering a time when they did. Alex's little-kid brain didn't acknowledge his uncle's reflective expression, he was too busy thinking about fireballs._

Fast forward a week, when Alex asked about which combinations would explode, claiming he didn't want to accidentally combine the wrong chemicals. Ian saw right through Alex's fib, but was happy that the boy was taking interest in an aspect of the family business. The two spent the night learning about fireballs, and Alex couldn't have been happier.

Smiling at the memory, Alex came across a large, international jet. He checked the serial number to make sure it matched his target flight. _Bingo. _

He knew the plane would be completely empty, as emergency procedures instructed all planes to be evacuated after a code red. Alex walked up the rolling stairs, peeked around the corner of the doorway, and walked right in.

According to further emergency protocols, Alex had plenty of time until the plane was to take off, but he could never be too sure. Thus, he combed the plane for a good hiding place as quickly as possible.

He went to the back of the plane, only to find a cramped area with a beverage cart and a couple of doors, which he assumed to be bathrooms. There was a few small benches as well, but the room under them was not big enough to hide under, even for his relatively small frame. He turned to the two doors.

He opened the first, and his suspicions were confirmed; it was a cramped, smelly airplane toilet. The second door looked nearly the same, but was marked with a "Staff Only" sign. He assumed this door revealed another bathroom, but he tried it anyway.

Much to his surprise, this door opened to a small, winding staircase, which led up to an area out of sight. Alex's curiosity was piqued, and this seemed like a fantastic hiding place, so he slowly walked up the stairs. He was forced to duck under the low ceiling as he ascended.

The staircase wasn't very long, and once he reached the last few steps the ceiling opened up, and he was able to stand straight. He looked around at his surroundings, and was met with a narrow hallway lined with small rooms. The rooms ran the full length of the hallway; all were covered by floor length, heavy curtains. He carefully pulled one back, making sure no one was inside first, and found a big bed, a TV, pillows, blankets, magazines, and a storage locker, all tucked away snugly in the airplane's ceiling.

Alex had never heard of such rooms existing, which made sense. He imagined first-class fliers would be enraged at the thought that the quality of their seats were in fact, not the best available. Throughout all of his experiences with planes, he'd seen travelers get upset about much more superficial issues.

Alex walked down the hall, counting the rooms as he went. There were eight in total. From what he could recall, there were usually three to five flight attendants per flight, so that would leave at least three empty rooms.

He went inside the room farthest from the staircase, hoping the attendants would want to be closer to the exit. The teen went straight for the storage area. It was a long, rectangular space that ran the length of the room. It was about a two meters long and a half meter tall. It had air slits like the ones on school lockers on the far left, and a handle on the bottom.

Alex pulled on the handle, which caused the door to slide upwards and into the wall, much like how the overhead luggage bins on the floor below worked. He took a look inside, saw it was completely empty, and just big enough for him to fit inside.

The teen wriggled into the small space; his shoulders barely scraped by. With more expert maneuvering, he was able to position himself with his head facing the room. He tugged his arm out and grabbed the door. He lost his grip a few times, but he eventually managed to bring the cover in front of him. Before he closed it all the way, however, a concern came to light: Could he open it again from the inside?

He remembered the butter knife he had snatched from the internet cafe; it was still in his pocket. he wrenched it out, placed the tip under the door, and let it close as far as it could. The thin metal of the knife kept the door and the base barely separated, securing an exit, but it would be impossible to hold that position.

Because the door didn't click into place, it would not stay down on it's own, and Alex, as well as keeping the knife in position, had to hold the door down with his other hand. Without a handle to grip on to, that was a very taxing job.

Within two minutes he couldn't take it anymore and let go, allowing the door to slide back into place. He released a frustrated sigh and flopped on his back, pouting at the ceiling.

This fleeting moment of teenage angst is what turned his impossible situation around. On the top of the storage locker, right above his nose, there was a small, glowing button. He squinted to read the words below them, and saw they said: "emergency release. In case of confinement, press here". Alex silently cheered. Any other time he would have scoffed at the crazy safety measures airplanes were notorious for, but they had saved him today.

He pulled the door down once again and let it click shut. Alex laid there for all of five minutes before he grew uneasy. He just couldn't stand the lack of control he had once the flight attendants came upstairs. There was no way he could guarantee that an attendant wouldn't choose his room, and happen to have a bag they needed to store. The teen needed some way to make sure he wouldn't be found.

He pushed the escape button and popped out of the tiny space. He looked around the small room. The storage space had no lock, and neither did the privacy curtain. There was nothing he could do to prevent a crew member from entering the space. This obstacle didn't stop Alex. If he couldn't physically keep anyone out, he'd have to drive them away through other means.

He examined the inside of the space more closely. There was a hanging rack on the wall stuffed with magazines, paper, and pens. To the right of that was a small first aid kit. He opened up the kit. Nothing in there would help keep flight attendant out, but he knew how useful a first aid kit would be to him in the future.

He couldn't carry the whole box with him, but he grabbed a few items- gauze, disinfectant, pain killers- and stuffed them in his pockets. It all fit; he thanked his lucky stars that he decided to wear cargo shorts to school the day before.

After grabbing the necessities, he continued to look around the space. There was the TV, its remote, and then the bed.

The bed took up the entirety of the room's floor, and it had a giant strap, much like the seat belts on the airplane seats, connected to each side of the mattress.

He returned to the hanging rack, and found a crew manual. He flipped to the section discussing the rooms:

_Rest areas are for crew members only. They are not for sale. Crew members must not stay in rest area for more than one hour at a time. Maximum occupancy: 8 persons. Rooms may not be shared. Crew members are required to use safety belt when resting in case of unexpected turbulence. Rooms unsuitable for any reason may not be used. _

Alex pondered the last sentence. _Unsuitable... _If he could find a way to make the room he was hiding in defective, then no one would choose it. A plan instantly came to mind.

Alex pulled out his butter knife and began to saw at the safety belt. It was a slow process- Alex wished for something sharper- but he still had lots of time before the plane begun boarding. He made sure to make his cuts as ragged and frayed as possible, to give it a more natural look. He didn't want anyone to suspect that it had been deliberately sawed.

The slow and tiring process took ten minutes. Alex Admired his work. The ends looked as if they had split due to overuse; no one would suspect they had been tampered with. Pleased with the outcome, Alex moved on to the next step. he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the hanging rack, and write out a note in the neatest handwriting he could muster:

_DO NOT USE- safety belt unsuitable. _

The message was short, but it was all he needed. If he was right, and there would be less than eight flight attendants, then they would have no problem simply moving to the next room.

Alex had done everything he could to secure his hiding place. He placed the note on top of the belt, and climbed back into the storage locker. The boy stared up at the emergency button, and let the faint, green glow lull him to sleep.

* * *

Wolf cautiously knocked on the door of Sergeant William's office. After a brief pause, he was granted permission to enter. The soldier walked in, closed the door, and stood at attention.

"At ease." The sergeant spoke casually. Wolf was relieved- it seemed that he had caught the man in a relatively good mood. "State your purpose."

"it's about Cub, Sir." Wolf stated. Williams seemed mildly surprised.

"I didn't think that you cared about him." The man mused. Wolf flushed; he regretted the way he had treated Alex at Brecon Beacons, but his actions were not forgotten.

"My bad attitude towards him was all a misunderstanding and harsh judgement on my part, Sir. I was wondering, are the allegations against Cub true?" He played dumb.

"Well, the kind of evidence that would disprove the claims of the video are highly classified, so not many people have any way of knowing. However, due to the fact that the video was clearly made by Scorpia, we have no reason to believe that their proof is credible."

"Is anyone going to help him, Sir?"

"No moves have been made by MI6, and they have ordered us to not take action. So, I am assuming not."

The sergeant had a hint of pity in his voice. Wolf played it to his favor. "Why is that, Sir? It seems cruel and unjust to leave him out there."

"Soldier, don't you know not to question orders?" The Sergeant raised his eyebrows. he didn't appear stern, just curious.

"Yes Sir, but I can't just sit back when my teammate's life in on the line."

"You consider Cub a member of your team?" Williams' curiosity increased.

"Of course, Sir. I also consider him to be innocent, and worthy of being saved by us." Wolf took a great risk. If the Sergeant disagreed, then the soldier could be binned for plotting against direct orders. but if he felt sympathy for Alex, then K Unit would be able to get a plane, and save their teammate. Wolf waited in anticipation for a response.

The sergeant took a long while to respond. "Well, that would be defying direct orders, and you could risk expulsion from the SAS." Wolf gulped. He had it in for him now. "So I absolutely cannot endorse a mission of the sort."

"Furthermore," The sergeant continued with a gleam in his eye. "I would hope you don't try to carry out such a mission regardless. Especially because, if you attempted to hijack a helicopter from the west hangar, you would most certainly be caught if you were unaware of the security flaws, such as the rusted lock on the unguarded southern entrance, and the fact that it takes fifteen minutes for the outside guards to complete a loop around the building."

Wolf caught on to the Sergeants cryptic message immediately, and he beamed. The man had a new respect for his Sergeant Williams. "I'm sure it would be near impossible if I was also unaware of any hidden cameras, Sir." Wolf suggested in the same tone that WIlliams employed.

"Yes, it would be rather hard to complete such a mission if you did not know that all cameras, both hidden and exposed, record footage but are not monitored." Williams nodded in false contemplation.

"Well, I will make sure to strictly follow my orders, Sir." Wolf spoke the sentence laced with hidden meaning.

"I approve of that. Carry on." Sergeant Williams dismissed Wolf. The soldier gave a quick salute before exiting the office.

Wolf left the property and got in his car, eager to share the news with his unit. _We're coming for you, Cub. _He thought as he drove back to his flat.

* * *

**There you have it! Please, please, PLEASE REVIEW! Come on fellow authors, you know how much it means to us. **

**Remember to check out The Pain Game!**

**By the way, those airplane crew rooms are real, look them up if you want a visual. They're pretty cool, actually.**

**~Archer **


	8. A Leap of Faith

Wow, it's been forever. I'm so sorry about that. If you're reading my other story than you've gotten a few updates there, but this one... yikes.

A lot of you have probably forgotten what happened in the last few chapters, or maybe what this story is even about. I doubt the latter, since I haven't seen a plot like this one floating around in the AR fandom, but I'll provide a quick summary of the last few chapters to help jog your memory if need be.

Alex decides that he needs to go to the UK to find the video evidence that proves his innocence (on record in MI6 via satellites), and he figures out that there must be a mole in '6, whom he wants to uncover. He sneaks on to a plane headed for heathrow and hides in a storage box in the flight attendant rest area.

Meanwhile, K-Unit has decided that they are going to help Alex by getting a plane and flying to the US and getting him. Wolf talks to the sergeant and he tells him how to steal a helicopter from a hangar- you know, without actually telling him. *wink*

Tom put together a secret meeting of those who believed Alex is innocent, and announced that he wanted them to organize protests to get the public and the media on their side. The kids agree, and they start planning.

Hopefully that was enough for you guys! Again, I'm super sorry about the delay. Read to the end if you want a teaser!

* * *

Chapter 8

Alex was rudely awakened by a source he couldn't place. He was confused and disoriented; his temples throbbed. He found himself in a tiny, dark, rumbling room with a small green glow for light. This definitely wasn't his bedroom.

It all came rushing back once his sleep disorientation left him a few seconds later. The video. The hunt. The plane.

The rumbling continued, causing Alex to whack his skull on the walls surrounding him, adding more pain to his head. At first he thought they were taking off, but the grumbling was too intense for that. He realized it must have been turbulence.

_Wait, _he thought, _how long was I asleep? _He knew it would have taken hours until the plane was allowed to leave after the explosion occurred, and they were already in the air. So, at the very least, he had been sleeping for six or seven hours.

Normally, sleeping for so long while on the run- in the middle of the day, no less- would be reckless and dangerous, but Alex couldn't think of a better time to doze off; completely hidden away in an empty plane. Besides, he desperately needed the rest; he hadn't slept in well over twenty-four hours.

He brought his focus back to his next step. He was still undiscovered in his hiding place, so with a bit more luck, he could stay there the rest of the flight. As long as he could hear the pilot's announcements from up above, he would know when to leave.

Leaving... now that was the issue. How could he exit the storage locker, go back to the main cabin, and get off the plane whilst going undetected? He supposed he would have to wait until everyone left the plane before departing. But what if it was taking off for another flight right away?

He couldn't risk being flown off to some unknown destination. He would have to wait until the flight attendants left the rest area, then he would sneak down and merge with the fliers.

It was risky, unreliable, and a million things could go wrong, but it was his only option.

Besides, Alex Rider had seen worse. Much, much worse.

An intercom came to life, and the audio barely reached his hiding place. Alex had to strain his ears to hear a thing.

"Sorry about the unexpected turbulence folks, it seemed to have straightened itself out and it should not return soon. However, please continue to keep your seatbelt fastened in compliance of our safety regulations.

"We are currently flying over the Corn Belt, and if you look down through your window, you may be able to catch a glimpse since skies are clear. We will be arriving at our final destination in about six hours. Have a great rest of your flight." The intercom buzzed out.

Alex suppressed a groan. If he remembered correctly, a flight from California to London takes about ten hours. He had slept for four of those, not to mention the endless hours it must have taken for the plane to be cleared for takeoff after Alex's explosion. Both his energy level and math told him- he was beyond well rested. That meant there was no way he could fall asleep again during the flight. Nor could he move from his spot.

He was stuck in a glorified box with nothing to do... for six hours.

He attempted a game of "Count the Smudges on the Storage Box Walls", but he couldn't trick himself into being even remotely amused by it, no matter how hard he tried. After what seemed like a half hour, voices mercifully drew Alex away from his boredom. He heard two pairs of feet and low conversation. The steps got louder, as did the words.

"It's not like you'll be using the room. Just the storage." One voice assured. Alex didn't like the way the conversation was going.

"Yeah. Besides, it would be more dangerous to have luggage that wasn't strapped in somewhere. There's no way they can get mad if I use that excuse." The other voice agreed.

"But they may comment on the amount that you brought." The first voice jested.

"I'm staying in the city for a month! What did you expect I bring? A duffel?"

"I'm just saying, two suitcases seems a bit extreme..." The first voice trailed off, still teasing. They approached Alex's rest area.

Alex reacted quickly. He pressed down on the inside of the door, hoping to prevent the flight attendants from opening it. Best-case scenario: they would think it was stuck and leave it alone. Worst-case scenario: that's what the fake gun was for. He silently pulled the gun out of his waistband and held it at the ready, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

"Huh. It's jammed." One voice grunted.

"Let me try." The other grabbed on to the handle and pulled with all their might. The first voice joined the effort. With only the grip of his sweaty fingers on smooth plastic, Alex was no match and lost quickly to the two. They forced the door open and made the acquaintance of an international fugitive and a handgun.

* * *

"Attention, everyone!" Tom Harris yelled to anyone who was listening on the busy downtown sidewalk. He stood against the wall on his corner. Ashley, Cameron, James, and Harry were scattered across downtown London at their own corners. A small crowd began to form around Tom, full of vaguely curious passerby. "I have an announcement that the whole world needs to hear, but most importantly, the citizens of Great Britain!"

"You have all heard of Alex Rider." Tom jumped right in before the people lost interest. "The teenage boy who apparently tried to assassinate the secretary of the United States of America. Well, I'm here to tell you that he was framed!" The crowd exchanged looks, all of them skeptical, but curious enough to stay and listen.

"In the infamous video broadcasted all over the world, we saw footage of Rider committing terrible deeds. However, that's not all that we saw. In the beginning of the video, a logo of a Scorpion appeared on the screen. You may not remember it, but look it up; it was there. That logo is the symbol for Scorpia, a ruthless terrorist organization." At this, Tom received no reaction from the crowd. Well, not yet.

"This may not seem important to you. But think about it! Why would a known terrorist organization publish a video exposing a spy? _For revenge. _Alex must have done something to them, and they wanted to get back at him. We can't trust a video put out by terrorists!" As Tom spoke and waved his arms about, more and more people joined the crowd. One woman near the front stepped forward.

"What about all the footage of Rider? That looked real." Many people in the crowd nodded in agreement. Luckily, Tom was prepared for that question.

"Each clip in the video was ten seconds long, at the very most. Ten seconds isn't long enough to provide context for the situation. How can we trust what the narrator said?" A few people seemed to catch on, but he hadn't explained enough for his claim to make complete sense. "When the voice told us that Alex had tried to set off America's nuclear missiles, the video only showed him jumping out of a plane after it crashed. How does that prove anything? For all we know, Alex could have been in that plane stopping someone else from setting off those missiles. Or he could have been there for an entirely different reason." Of course, Tom knew exactly what Alex was doing in that plane, but telling all that he had been told could put him in danger from MI6. They had no idea that he knew anything, and Tom was keen on keeping it that way.

"When the narrator told us that Alex had joined a terror organization, and tried to kill the deputy head of MI6, all the video showed was him at target practice. Again, the video clips prove nothing." Tom looked at the crowd, challenging them to ask another question. Most of the people seemed very interested in what Tom had to say, but whether they believed him or not, Tom couldn't say.

"What about the clip of Alex Rider killing that CIA agent?" A man asked, pointing out the exception to Tom's theory. No matter the context, that clip was the most incriminating.

"Yes, the video showed Alex shooting a man as he ran through a doorway. However, how do we know that the man he killed was a CIA agent? He could have been anyone." Tom pulled his shoulders back as to not give away his uncertainty. "Also, that's not all that is suspicious about that particular video. In the clip, Alex pauses and looks directly at the security camera, which is the only clear shot we get of his face, and it's the only way to prove that it is in fact Alex running from the scene.

"The video that the security camera took was very shaky and low quality. With all of these irregularities combined, we can assume that the footage was tampered with. There is no good reason for Alex to look into the camera; in fact, looking into the camera is the last thing a trained spy would do, so Scorpia must have edited the footage. The low quality was probably added to cover up any flaws in their editing." His conjectures here were truly that- conjectures, unlike the rest of his evidence. Alex had been hesitant on sharing what happened in Cairo, so Tom left it alone. Now, he wished he hadn't.

"I don't know son, you don't have enough proof there." The man crossed his arms.

"It's harder to say with that particular clip, but there is no denying the rest of what I've shown you all: That the video was created by terrorists, and the clips don't show enough context." Tom replied. Although the man wasn't satisfied with his answer, the majority of the crowd seemed to be. He noticed a few were recording him. At first, it freaked him out, but he realized that the videos could be posted somewhere, and his presentation could receive even more attention.

"I've brought pamphlets that sum up all of what I've discussed, and then some." Tom picked up a stack of papers behind him and started passing them around. Most people gave it a quick glance and passed it along, but a few took one before they walked off. Four people lingered after the rest left.

"Why are you doing this, kid?" The same skeptical man from before asked him.

"Alex used to go to my school; he and I were pretty close before he moved to the states." Tom explained, seeing no reason to hide that fact. "What Scorpia claimed he had done was nothing like him, so I looked into it a little bit and found quite a few holes."

"Did you know that he was a spy?" A woman asked, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. "You know, before the video was released?"

"No, of course not." Tom lied. "But I do know that he is a kind, honest person and he deserves to be defended."

"Why don't you go to the police with all this?" A girl who looked about Tom's age suggested.

"They wouldn't really be able to do anything; he's not in this country. This is out of their jurisdiction." He shrugged. "My best chance is getting this on the news."

"Well, good luck to you, son. You have a compelling case." Another man said as he walked off. The remaining people left as well. Tom couldn't help but beam. If he could get a handful of people to believe him in a matter of minutes, there was no stopping him now.

"_You done yet Tom?" _A voice came from the Walkie Talkie in his pocket. He recognized the voice as Ashley.

"Just finished, yeah." Tom answered as he put the remaining pamphlets into his backpack. "Have you checked in with anyone else?"

"_Yup, I finished a few minutes ago. I already talked to Cameron and Harry."_

"Great. I'll head to the meet up spot, let's talk more there."

"_Sounds great, see you." _Amy signed off. Tom shoved the Walkie Talkie back into his pocket and headed for the park a few blocks away.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked once Tom arrived at the park. He and Ashley were already sitting on a bench near the entrance when he arrived.

"Good," Tom nodded as he joined them on the bench, "I got a few people afterwards wishing me luck and stuff."

"Same here." Ashley said.

"I didn't get many people stopping to listen; my spot wasn't very crowded." Harry sighed.

"Hey, it's cool man, we'll switch it up next time." Tom promised. Cameron arrived a few seconds later.

"Any luck?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, it went pretty well, actually!" Cameron seemed proud. "A bunch of people took pamphlets, and some were even offering to help out."

"No way!" Ashley grinned. Her happiness reflected in the rest of the kids. Their goal didn't seem too far off anymore.

"Hey," Tom started, "anyone heard from James?" The other three shook their heads. "Weird. It's been a while." He mused.

After waiting another five minutes, James appeared from around the corner, looking peeved. He plopped down on the bench.

"What happened?" Tom asked.

"Some cop came by and shut me down." James grumbled. "He didn't even have the right! I wasn't doing anything illegal."

"Really? what the hell?" Ashley exclaimed.

"Did you get any pamphlets out, at least?" Harry asked.

"I got a few right before he showed up, but I stopped once he started shooing people away. I didn't want to piss him off any further." James shrugged.

"That's smart." Tom agreed. "We've barely started, we wouldn't want anyone getting in trouble, or even arrested, this early on. But still, that's a bunch of BS."

"Do you think any of us ever will? Get arrested, I mean?" Harry asked, clearly afraid of the possibility.

"God, I hope not." Tom cringed at the thought. Harry's worry increased at his reply, so Tom backpedaled. "But I really doubt that will happen. We're a bunch of kids protesting in our legal right. Even if they do arrest us, they'll have to let us go not long after."

"I hope you're right." Cameron fiddled with their bracelet, equally nervous.

"Are you guys ready for the next step?" Tom inquired. He grabbed an extra pamphlet from his backpack and flipped it over, revealing a note at the very bottom: _If you are interest in helping to let the public know about this injustice, contact us at savealexrider ._

"Do you think anyone will actually do that?" Harry sighed, discouraged.

"After some of the success we saw today, I'd be surprised if we couldn't put together a real protest in the next few weeks." Cameron smiled.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves..." Tom warned, though he was thinking the same thing. As long as Alex didn't do anything stupid, they could clear his name sooner than they imagined.

* * *

"Don't say a word." Alex leaped out of the storage compartment and pointed the gun at the pair of flight attendants. It seemed his order was too late, because the second attendant, a short man with shaggy red hair, let a scream loose the second he saw the fugitive. Both quickly raised their hands.

"Really?" Alex narrowed his eyes in exasperation at the man. He could already hear someone else coming up the stairs to investigate the noise. Alex hid himself from view in the room he came from, and whispered to the two, "When they ask what's wrong say you just stubbed your toe and everything's fine. Now put your hands down." The other flight attendant, tall with wiry black hair, complied, but the man didn't move; he was paralyzed with fear.

"Goddamn it _put your hands down!" _He hissed. The man shook with fear. Alex heard the footsteps on the stairs stop. The flight attendant on the stairs saw a shaking man with his hands up and easily guessed what was going on.

"Hey, is everything- Oh my god!" A woman shouted from the end of the hallway. He heard her race back down to the main level. There was nothing Alex could do to prevent the shit show that was about to go down.

"She's getting officers," The woman started, "It would be wise for you just to give up now. That way no one gets hurt." Alex gave her a look. "Come on kid, don't throw your future away."

"Who's the one behind the gun here?" Alex was shocked that she would belittle him and try to get him to surrender while at gunpoint. If Alex was a real terrorist, she could have gotten herself killed.

"Son, I'm sure you're just not in your right mind. If you put the weapon down, things will turn out so much better for you, I promise." She reasoned in a strikingly condescending voice.

Alex couldn't believe this woman. If she went on thinking he was just some poor child, she might try something stupid and throw Alex's whole plan out of whack. He needed to make himself seem less like a scared kid and more like a someone she would fear, someone she would respect. "I don't think you know who I am." Alex raised one eyebrow and grinned. "Does the name Alex Rider ring a bell? I'm sure you've seen the video."

It clicked. "Oh, God." She whispered. She shared a look with the man, who seemed to have reached the same conclusion, which definitely wasn't helping his blood pressure.

"Hello?" A voice floated up the stairwell. "My name's Henry. Do you want to talk?" The voice, dubbed Henry, suggested. Alex recognized the hostage negotiation tactic and didn't buy his politeness for a second.

"Let's get down to business." Alex skipped the pleasantries. "I need a parachute."

"Okay, there should be some under the beds up there. Just lift up the cushion." A wavering voice joined. Alex figured it was a flight attendant. Behind the voices, he could hear a crowd of footsteps. It became clear that the officer saw a fight as a possibility, and wanted to clear the area of innocents. Or, they could be clearing the area so Henry could try and take Alex down. He couldn't have that. Besides, there was no way Alex would turn his back to his hostages in order to look for a parachute.

"I'm coming down. Everyone stop moving. _Now_." Alex ordered as he approached the stairs. He held on to the man but pushed the woman out in front of him and told her to go; she quickly reached the bottom and disappeared around the corner. Alex vaguely remembered the layout of the main deck, so he aimed himself for a corner near the staircase to prevent exposing his back. The second he finished walking down the stairs he swung himself and the hostage around until he was pressed against two walls.

Alex saw not just one officer, but two. They weren't dressed in any uniform, as expected for plainclothes members of law enforcement. There were always a few on every flight for emergency situations. One officer, a short, blonde man was staring right at Alex, hardly trying to disguise his shock at the boy's young age, and the other, an averaged sized man with a buzz cut, was herding passengers into the first class section.

"Stop. Now." Alex told the second officer. He froze. "Leave the rest in here." The man and the ten or so passengers left exchanged a look of dread.

One flier, a stout woman with a pixie cut, declared, "That's Alex Rider! The British terrorist!" The energy in the room shifted instantly. The hostage started to sweat profusely.

"You tried to kill our secretary of state! And now you're going to try and kill me, aren't you?" His voice shook as much as his body did.

"Listen," Alex addressed the flight attendant, "I didn't try to kill the secretary of state, and I'm not going to try and kill you." He turned to the cops to address them. "Just give me a parachute, open a door, and I'll be on my way."

"Hey, Alex," The buzz cut officer said, who Alex now recognized as Henry by his voice. His soft manner of speaking had the opposite effect that he intended. "You want to prove your innocence, right? Well there's no point if you commit this crime right now. Just put down the gun and I'll talk to my superiors about launching an investigation." He reasoned.

"Oh, sure." Alex's voice dripped with sarcasm. It seemed his previous hostage wasn't the only person on the plane who couldn't take him seriously. It seemed "teenage terrorist" wasn't enough to keep the officers in line, so he would have to step the lethality up a notch. "Just give me a goddamn parachute before my trigger finger gets itchy." He pressed the gun into the man's neck while he squirmed. Alex wanted to gag at the way he was acting, but he had no choice. The cops would be way more likely to try and attack Alex than the flight attendant from earlier, and the only way he could prevent that was to make them afraid of him. It was either this or get arrested.

The officer finally obliged as he motioned for the flight attendant to grab a parachute. She made a face and whispered something to the officer. "Use your words." Alex twisted the gun further into the attendant's neck. The officer relayed the information.

"She says that they don't carry parachutes for the passengers."

"Well, go get the pilot's. They've got to have one." Alex didn't let the bump faze him. The flight attendant was off to the cockpit, shoving through the tightly packed first class section.

"Okay, you two. I want all your guns. Put them on the floor and kick them to me." Alex ordered the officers. They complied, both unstrapping a pistol from their chest holsters. Henry slowly bent down, placed the gun on the floor, and pushed the weapon to Alex's feet. The blonde officer complied. Alex grabbed one of the guns and stashed it in his pocket, leaving the rest on the floor.

"What about those holsters on your legs?" Alex asked with mock innocence. The two officers shared a startled glance and complied, lifting their pant legs and sending the small guns his way.

"What, you didn't think I'd notice the bulge at each of your ankles?" Alex scoffed. "I might be young, but I've been in the game for quite a while. Speaking of things you didn't think I'd notice, could the other plainclothes cop step out of the crowd?" The group of passengers glanced at each other, as if they were trying to guess who this "other cop" was by the way they looked. Finally, a defeated young woman stepped out into the aisle.

"There we go. I'll have your weapons as well." Alex ordered. She repeated the same action as the two officers before her- first the chest holster, then the ankle.

"How did you know I was there?" She asked with caution. Her instincts told her not to speak up, but her curiosity won that skirmish.

"I didn't." Alex smirked and left the whole cabin dumbstruck. "Now, I want you two to go as close to the cabin as you can, past all the people, and stay there." He pointed to the two of the officers: the woman who just revealed herself, and the one with black curly hair. Henry remained.

"It was you that set off the explosion at the airport, wasn't it?" One man from the group of passengers accused.

Alex narrowed his eyes and looked straight at the man. "Who knows?" Alex knew, obviously, as did the rest of the cabin, but he wasn't about to admit his crime. When Alex looked over at the crowd, he noticed one young man, probably in his early twenties, taping the whole ordeal on his phone.

"Hey!" Alex growled at the man, "Put the phone away unless you want a bullet in between your eyes." The young man wised up and stashed the phone in his pocket.

The flight attendant who had been sent to fetch the parachute shoved back through the crowd, hugging a large backpack to her chest. She finally squeezed through the crowd and got herself back out in the open.

"Thank you, I can take that." Henry said in the calm voice that he managed to maintain through the negotiations. Alex wondered how much shit you had to see in order to be so apathetic. "I'm going to slide the pack over to you, alright Alex?" Henry slowly clarified as he placed the parachute on the floor.

"Sure." Alex gave him confirmation to push the backpack to his feet. He did so, and Alex shrugged it on.

"Now open that door." Alex commanded. The emergency exit was the nearest door, just at the edge of the throng of passengers.

"Alex, if the door gets opened, everyone will get sucked out of the plane." Henry proposed an issue.

"Alright then, everyone go back to the first class section with the rest of the passengers." Alex shrugged, easily solving the problem. Henry still seemed dissatisfied.

"What about this man?" He pointed to the hostage. He posed a harder problem to solve. Alex couldn't put an innocent person in danger, but letting him go would result in Alex being totally exposed. It was a risk he would have to take.

Alex shoved the flight attendant forward. "Go." The man could barely keep himself from running. "You too, Henry." Alex kept his eyes and his gun trained directly on the cop. Henry ran back to join everyone else in the front. He noticed almost half of them were filming Alex from afar. At this point, he could care less. All he had left to do was open the door and jump.

He pulled the handle up and out as instructed. Immediately, the door swung open and Alex was thrown into empty air.

* * *

Uh oh, cliffhanger! Don't worry, I already have a little bit of the next chapter written, so I've given myself a bit of a head start.

Now for reviewer shoutouts! As you know, reviews are pretty much the only reason I still update. if you liked the chapter, review it! if you didn't, tell me why! it means a great deal to me as a writer, and it will get those updates out faster. If I notice that I only got, lets say 6 or less reviews on a chapter, I'll wait until the number has gone up to update. So I'll update quicker too!

To _Atticot_ for listing specifics about what they liked, that's always so fun to read. I'm glad you enjoyed the scene with Wolf, I had a lot of fun writing it!

To _natashabromanoff _(brilliant username) for such a sweet compliment! They're also reading into the foreshadowing that I'm throwing in there...

to _R__eviewer _(anonymous) for the constructive criticism. I understand what you were saying about MI6 being able to prove Alex's innocence, but what I was trying to highlight was Jones' preference for self-preservation when she was given the choice. I can see how that wasn't super clear, so I've decided I'll edit that part.

To _WillRider _for reading the whole story again to remember what it was about (damn!) and enjoying doing so! little anecdotes like that make my day.

For those of you who read this far, I'll give you a little teaser: this isn't the last we'll see of Henry.


	9. The Midwestern Desert

And we're back! It hasn't even been _that_ long either! Sure, some writers update once a week, but you already know that you can't expect that kind of efficiency from my school-going job-having socializing self.

By the way, if any of you have information about skydiving or helicopters that may contradict with some parts of this chapter, _please_ let me know! I strive for being completely realistic and accurate, and since I don't have firsthand experience and the internet can only do so much, there may have been some things I missed. This goes for anything I ever write about: if you know it's wrong, write a review correcting me, and I'll fix it.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 9

Alex was falling, tumbling, spiraling, unsure of which way was up and which way was down. White and blue flashes consumed his vision, never forming a solid shape, simply taunting him with fleeting glances.

Sure, he had parachuted out of a plane before- but this time was different. This time he was unprepared and forced out with little preparation; he hardly even had time to pull the backpack over his shoulders.

There was protocol to skydiving: Safety checks, a smooth departure, counting the seconds to release the chute. Alex was sure that he had broken every existing rule there was, and he was paying for it dearly.

He tried shifting his body to counter the winds and straighten out, but to no avail. He was but a ship in a swirling cyclone, helpless to the massive force of nature.

Alex had never been afraid of heights, but if this wasn't terror, He didn't know what was.

He wanted nothing more than to pull the string and release the parachute, but he feared it just as much. If he was facing the wrong way, or if it got tangled around him- he shuddered at the thought.

No- it was too risky. The white and blue vision that had taken control of his sight let in hints of green and brown earth. That was not good. Not good _at all._

He had no choice. It was either certain death, or not so certain death. He'd prefer neither, but when did Alex ever get what he wanted?

Still unsatisfied with his options, he prayed to whoever was listening, tugged on the string and braced for impact.

The first consequence was immediate. His body felt as if it was getting torn in two; his frame stretched out beyond its limits. He was overwhelmed with excruciating pain.

It was condensed mainly in his left arm. His wrist felt red hot- like his hand was being ripped from his body.

Then came the second consequence. The parachute had stopped spinning, but vertigo still impaired his vision. It slowly came back, the blurs fading bit by bit. When he could finally see straight, he found himself with a killer migraine. His head throbbed almost as much as his arm.

He squinted through the roaring winds and tried to figure out how bad his situation was. His eyes met a wrist ensnared in paracord, turning blue from the lack of circulation and rapidly swelling. The only thing he could think about was what would've happened if it had been around his neck.

The parachute struggled to inflate completely in the tangled state it was in. Alex tried to reach up and free his hand, but the gravity keeping the string in place wasn't a force he could reckon with, and by the amount of detail he could make out of the ground below, he knew he wouldn't have enough time to unwrap all the cord.

He grabbed all the ropes that weren't tangled and tried to pull them as far away from his left arm as possible. He felt his descent slow slightly. He looked up, and, as predicted, could see that the parachute was more inflated than before.

He was still going too fast for comfort, so he pulled with all of his might, despite the protests of his aching hand. He slowed more, but it still wasn't enough. Alex was going to crash land, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

He recalled his SAS training. _If you're canopy is compromised, execute a Parachute Landing Fall, PLF for short. Connect with the ground in this order: feet, calf, upper leg, hip, back and side of the arm. Relax your muscles. Keep your legs springy at the knee. _It seemed like his best bet, but he had only practiced it so many times at Brecon Beacons, and that was well over a year ago.

Prepared or not, Alex was coming in hot. He could make out the texture of the brown earth below him, dotted with green. Seconds later, he made contact.

_Feet, calf, leg, hip, back, arm! _Alex completed the landing, ending winded, flat on his back, but _alive. _He was completely coated in dirt. He could feel a big bruise forming near his shoulder blades, but he would choose bruises over broken bones any day.

Now that Alex was on the ground, he could easily untangle his wrist from the cord. He held it gingerly in one hand as it throbbed in time with his rapid heartbeat. The cord had left deep, reddish-purple indents on his upper arm. He massaged it with his right hand, still shaking from the adrenaline in his system. It wasn't broken, and it didn't feel sprained. With a bit of luck and ice if he could find any, it would be back to normal in a few days.

He unstrapped the backpack and looked around at where he had landed. He was in a large field surrounded by nothing but empty roads. The field itself was all dirt with evenly spaced lines of green plants, which were most likely newly planted crops. Alex remembered the pilot's announcement about flying over the Corn Belt. That must be where he was now.

He recalled from school that the Corn Belt was a large area of the US just for growing corn. That meant that there was no civilization for miles, save a few farmhouses. Although that meant that no one saw him land, it also meant that he would have to walk for miles, injured and directionless. He was stuck in a midwestern desert.

Alex looked up at the sun to try and figure out which way was north. However, the sun wasn't the only thing he saw in the sky. Another parachuter was coming down.

Alex had no doubt that this parachuter was one of the cops from the plane. Who else would be jumping in a place like this? He should have seen it coming; there was no way that he would be scot-free after the incredibly illegal stunt he pulled. He recalled how Henry had sprinted to the cabin when Alex told him to go. He hadn't thought much of it initially, but now he realized why- Henry was running to grab his own parachute.

Surrounded by nothing but empty fields, Alex knew he had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. That didn't mean he wouldn't try.

Alex broke off in a run in the opposite direction of Henry. He was far away from Alex's landing site, which didn't surprise him; on a plane going 500 miles per hour or more, the few minutes needed to strap on a backpack and jump would be enough to set them apart by miles.

It seemed that Henry's departure had gone much smoother; his parachute was fully inflated, and he slowly floated towards the ground. He still had quite a bit of time before he landed, which would give Alex a solid head start, but there was no way that the cop hadn't spotted Alex from above and would be on his trail the minute he touched the ground. His odds weren't good.

Regardless, Alex continued to run, looking back every so often, but never seeing his pursuer. His chances were looking better. If Henry was so far off that he couldn't even see him, then maybe he would come across a town before the cop caught up. He could hot wire a car and be on the road in no time.

However, as long stretches of cornfields turned into even more cornfields, Alex didn't see his wish coming true. But soon enough, he came across the next best thing.

A thin river cut through the fields, curving with no end in sight. The river had to lead somewhere, and that somewhere could be civilization. The river wasn't level with the ground- it was about five yards into it with a steep, rocky bank. The incline acted as a wall, and could keep anyone at the bottom from being seen up above. If Alex went down to the bank and walked alongside the river, no one would see him until he chose to be seen. It was perfect.

He stood at the edge of the slope, examining the terrain. It was extremely steep and made up entirely of rocks. There was no way he could walk down it without losing his grip, so he sat at the edge and slid.

Alex wasn't the only thing that slid. The second he passed through the first half of the incline, the rocks above him loosened and began to roll down the hill. The movement caused a chain reaction until the whole hill turned into a deadly rockslide.

Alex yelped and sped up his descent as he saw the quickly approaching rocks. Some of them were as big as his head, and he didn't want to think about what would happen if they caught up with him. The rockslide gained speed as more and more of the bank came loose.

Alex was so close to the bottom, if only he could reach it before the rockslide reached him! When he was just feet away from the bank, a large rock came racing down the hill and slammed directly into his back.

Alex pitched forward onto his stomach with a heavy grunt. He recovered quickly and stood as to not be covered, but it was too late. He was buried thigh deep in rocks.

The weight of the stones on his legs was unbearable and suffocating. He could feel the sharper ones cutting into his skin. He picked up a rock at the top of the pile, but the second he lifted it, it caused the ones above it to slide down and bury his legs even further. He was stuck fast, like an animal caught in a hunting trap. And Henry was the hunter.

* * *

"We can get binned for this." Eagle reiterated for the fifth time from the backseat of Wolf's Jeep as K-unit drove to the SAS hangar.

"Or arrested." Snake added, not helping the already doubtful spirits of the men.

"And Alex could _die_ if we don't do this." Fox turned to look at the two from the front seat. "We have to."

"We're getting close, put on your masks." Wolf ordered, putting an end to the conversation. The four men did just that, pulling the black ski masks on over their heads to hide their faces.

Wolf slowed and turned off the path a half-mile away from the hangar. It was effectively in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods, three miles from the nearest paved road. A tall, electric, barbed wire fence surrounded the compound itself.

He steered the car as deep into the forest as he could manage before the trees got too thick, and parked it there. Wolf took all of his car mats out and stuffed them in his backpack. The men got out, placed some branches over the top to hide the vehicle, and covered up the tire tracks.

Wolf stared forlornly at the Jeep. "Why'd it have to be _my _car?"

"We'll get it back, after this is all over." Snake patted Wolf firmly on the back, trying not to think about how long it could take for that to happen. "Let's go."

The unit silently crept through the forest without leaving a trace that they were there, employing their ever-useful SAS training. They never would have thought that they would use what they had learned against the very people who had taught them. Then again, they never would have imagined themselves doing half the things they had decided to do that week. Breaking into a high-security military hangar and stealing a helicopter to rescue a framed teenage spy wasn't exactly on their bucket lists.

After a half hour, they could see the rusted metal fence through the trees. Eagle pulled out a pair of binoculars and snuck as close to the fence as he could without being spotted. He laid down in the dirt and watched the perimeter road within the compound.

A few minutes passed, and Eagle spotted the night-watchman turn around the corner. He slowly marched by, half-heartedly pointing his flashlight at every shadowy corner. Eagle caught him yawning once or twice. Once the man had walked out of sight, Eagle signaled to the rest of K-Unit. They joined him at the edge of the trees.

"The guard will be back around in fifteen minutes." Wolf recalled what the sergeant had told him as he pulled the car mats out of his backpack. "Let's move." He tossed a mat each to the other men, and pulled out a rubber-handled screwdriver to test the fence for electricity. The sergeant claimed that it wasn't functioning, but one could never be too sure. He approached the fence and touched the metal end of the tool to the chain link. Sure enough, touching the metal to the fence didn't cause a reaction. If it had, then the rubber of the screwdriver handle would've stopped the electric current before it reached Wolf's hand. It was a simple, foolproof trick.

"Sarge was right; it's broken." Wolf turned to the other men.

"How shocking." Eagle joked.

"Shut up." Fox clocked the man in the shoulder. In unison, the four men climbed up the chain link, carrying the mats on their shoulders. Once they neared the top, they swung the mats over the barbed wire, flattening it, and providing a safe entrance into the compound.

Snake was the first to jump down. He took off his backpack and gave it to Eagle to hold on to. He gripped the mat with both hands and swung himself up and over, landing deftly on the grass below, rolling to distribute the force.

Eagle threw his pack back down to Snake, who caught it and set it down beside him. The men threw the rest of the backpacks down to him one at a time, until they were all freed up to jump and roll without smashing their equipment in the process. Fox joined Snake on the ground, followed by Eagle, then Wolf. They all collected their packs and stood, surveying the hangars in front of them. It was at that moment that they knew there was no going back.

Before they could dwell on it too much, they set forth to the west hangar, which sported the rusted lock that Sergeant Williams had mentioned. They had entered the compound from the west end, so the hangar was a few meters away, just behind a small blockhouse that seemed to function as a break room. They reached the door, and sure enough, the padlock was brownish-red in color, and looked very weak.

Fox made quick work of the lock with a pair of bolt cutters, snapping the shackle in half and catching the broken pieces in his hand. He put the bolt cutters and the lock back in his backpack, and the four soldiers slowly entered the room.

Although the west hangar was the smallest of the bunch, and had significantly less aircraft inside, it was still enormous. Two planes and five helicopters called the building home. Three of the walls were made of solid concrete, but the forth was frosted, reinforced glass, able to slide open and shut to put the aircrafts in or take them out. In high-security hangars such as this one, a lever in a guarded control room manned the glass doors. Luckily, K-unit had enough experience with hangars through the SAS to know this. They also knew, that in case of an emergency, typing 999 into the keypad on the wall would allow the glass panels to open. Unfortunately, it would also sound the alarm. A messy getaway was inevitable.

The men got into position. Eagle stood by the control panel, Wolf and Snake stood at the door, guns at the ready in case of any unwanted guests, and Fox walked towards the helicopter on the far right. He had chosen that one specifically because of its design. It was a Sikorsky UH-60A Black Hawk, built for stealth. The Americans had designed it, but the British Army had their own stash, thanks to the alliance between the two countries. Ironically, K-Unit was using the Black Hawk to sneak into the very country that created them.

Working with MI6 had made Fox an expert in silently going where he wasn't supposed to be, and getting what he wasn't supposed to have. That's why the unit had chosen him for the job of soundlessly sliding into the helicopter and finding a way to bring it to life.

Helicopters weren't like cars; you can't just pull out the wires from under the steering wheel and have it running in a matter of minutes. The method of hot wiring was generally the same, but cars don't have thick, reinforced steel covering the control panel. Fox quickly pulled out a screwdriver, a crowbar, insulated gloves, a flashlight and wire cutters, not wasting any time. Although the glass doors were frosted, they weren't completely opaque, and the guard would still be able to see the silhouettes of four men in the hangar if he bothered to look.

Fox put the flashlight in his mouth to free up his hands and leaned over the steering wheel for a better angle. There were two seats in the front for the pilots, plus tons of complicated buttons and levers that Fox barely knew how to use. Another difference between cars and helicopters, at least on the Black Hawk, is that the wires are located behind the steering wheel, where the dashboard would be on a car. He located the screws and set to work.

He made quick work of the panel, taking out the four screws and using the crowbar to lift the metal sheet out of its place. He softly set the panel off to the side and slipped on the gloves. Now all he had to do was find the power wires and connect them. He examined the tangles of cords: exposed, complicated, and taunting him like a tiny electric maze. Fox had never hot wired a helicopter before, and couldn't make sense of it.

More often than not, the two power wires were red, and the starter wires were brown. Even if that was true in this case, Fox saw much more than two red and two brown wires. There were at least five of each, among many different colored wires, all sprouting from different directions. Although there were different shades of red and brown, only the helicopter manual could help him differentiate them all and find the right pair.

He gave a long sweeping look throughout the cockpit and located a small net on the ceiling right above the pilots' seats, meant for storing small items. He rummaged through and found what he was looking for. The manual was very thick, and not user friendly in the slightest. It was intended to be read by someone trained to operate this specific helicopter, and although the unit had been taught how to fly, they weren't experts, not by a long shot.

He flipped to the end and found an index. He looked for "Wiring" under W, and found the page. It had a color-coded diagram of the very wire system he was looking at. He read through the key until he found the power and starter wire colors. The power wires were the brightest shade of red, and the starters were the lightest color brown.

He located the matching colors as quickly as humanly possible. He had already wasted so much time finding the wires, and he hadn't even cut them yet. He cut each power wire, then stripped the plastic off a few inches to reveal the copper. He twisted the two copper ends together, and the cockpit came to life. The hundreds of lights flicked on, and Fox knew that being seen by a passing guard at this point wasn't just a slight chance, it was guaranteed. No one could miss the lights at a time like this.

His teammates noticed as well, and squinted at the sudden brightness in his direction. He took the two starter wires and cut them, careful to avoid touching the exposed metal. He tapped the ends together, and with a deafening roar, the engine sprung to life.

That was the signal. Eagle dialed 999 into the keypad, sounding the alarm and causing the glass door to open. The rest of the unit ran to the chopper and threw themselves in, grabbing a headset on the way in. They all tumbled into the two rows of seats in the back and sat down. Fox put on a headset as well. Once the gap in the doors were wide enough, Fox rolled the machine forward until it was completely outside and positioned on the paved exterior road of the compound. Fox flicked a switch and the blades began to spin.

If the alarm hadn't been enough to draw the guards' attention, the deafening whir of the blades definitely did the trick. All the guards in the compound swarmed the unit. It was the middle of the night, so there were only 5 present, but that didn't mean they didn't pose a threat.

It didn't take long for them to figure out that the chopper was being stolen. They waved their arms up and down to try and get them to stop, but they quickly abandoned that tactic and reached for their guns.

With all the proper checks and safety measures, a helicopter takeoff can take up to four minutes. However, K-Unit didn't have the luxury to make sure that the Black Hawk was safe and ready to go. Skipping the procedures would leave the takeoff time at about a minute, and so far it had been fifteen seconds.

The guards hesitated before shooting, knowing that the helicopter was an extremely expensive and important piece of military equipment that they weren't keen on damaging. However, they knew that the higher-ups would rather have it out of commission than in enemy hands. They fired at the chopper, barely doing any damage due to the bulletproof casing. That didn't keep the unit inside from hitting the deck to protect themselves from any lucky bullets that might somehow get inside. Fox had no such luxury; he had to grin and bear it for the next thirty seconds.

After the minute was up (although it had felt much, much longer), The Sikorsky UH-60A Black Hawk was up in the air and on its way. Snake, Wolf and Eagle slowly got up from the floor and took their seats. Eagle joined Fox in the co-pilot's seat; he was one of the better fliers of the group.

"They'll be following us any minute now." Eagle spoke through the headset. Fox nodded, acknowledging the truth.

"We'll be long gone by then." Fox kicked up the speed a notch, giving the cabin a small lurch. The helicopter could travel at a max speed of 180 miles per hour. If they maintained that speed, then K-Unit could be nearly twenty miles away once the guards got their own chopper up in the air. And that was only if any of them knew how to fly.

The implied consensus was clear- they had done it; they had successfully stolen the helicopter. But things would only get harder from there.

* * *

Henry raced through the stretches of cornfields, hoping against all hope that he was still on Rider's trail. He had seen him land (rather roughly, at that), and he had seen him run. But with the plane going as fast as it was when he jumped, the mere 30 seconds it took Henry to strap on a parachute and leap put a solid three miles in between them.

He relied heavily on footprints in the dirt, but who could say that they didn't belong to a farmer? For all Henry knew, Alex Rider could've taken a sharp turn and ended up in another state by now. Nevertheless, the footprints were his only lead, and a very solid one at that, despite his irrational doubts.

Henry saw a change in the soil in the distance. It looked as if the ground became grassy for a few meters, then went back to its normal state as quickly as it had changed. As the man got closer, it made more sense. The grass bordered a small river that cut straight through the land, with steep, cliff-like banks on either side. Henry cursed his luck. If the Rider boy had any sense, which Henry had no doubts about, he would have gone down the river, washing away any tracks that he could follow, and probably bringing him to the nearest town.

But, as he got nearer to the river, he noticed that his luck wasn't so bad after all. In fact, it was incredible. Alex Rider was right there in front of him, thigh-deep in a rockslide at the riverbank.

"Hello, Henry." Alex lifted his gun and pointed it at the man. "I could use a helping hand."

* * *

There you have it! Lots of you wanted to see more K-Unit, so I hope that was satisfactory. For those of you who aren't aware, I switch off between Tom and K-Unit's pov every other chapter, so that's why K-Unit isn't in every chapter. Make sure to review! By the way, I respond to every single review that I can, so if you want me to respond, make sure you log in so I can.

Speaking of reviews, time for the shoutouts!

To _Guest _for their musings about where in the world Alex would land after parachuting. I love getting questions!

To _Sungaya_ for the longest review of this chapter so far, thank you so so much! There's a special place in heaven for people who write detailed reviews.

To _Andipandy _(aka the needless lobsters), for yet another wonderful, thought out review. You never fail to write one, which is the best thing ever!

See you all next update! And, for those of you who have read this far, and now know I always give a little hint for future chapters: Alex Rider is going wild west up in this piece pretty soon. YEE-FUCKIN-HA! (sorry, my American is showing. I'm not actually sorry.)


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